


The star will shine brighter than any other.

by sugar_00



Series: In which the story is written in the stars [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), F/F, F/M, Fuck 'Em, Good Slytherins, Harry isn't Evil, I don't know what else should I write, I was told recently it is indeed Dumbledore Bashin so there you go, Indian Harry Potter, Kinda Dumbledore Bashing, M/M, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins aren't political masterminds yet, but sorta kinda darkish, it's not that I think he's evil but it's for the story's purposes, maybe greyish for now, they are eleven Jesus, they are sweeties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 24,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23297797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugar_00/pseuds/sugar_00
Summary: In which Harry Potter is a little darker, a little sadder, a little less accepting of your bullshit. In which Slytherins aren't (all) bigots, aren't evil, aren't they parents. In which there will be heartbreak, dark magic, the most wonderful moments of your life. Be ready because the future of the world is shaping, right now.
Relationships: nothing yet, only hints
Series: In which the story is written in the stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675480
Comments: 259
Kudos: 581





	1. In which Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts and surprises everybody.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi babes,  
> so it's my first time writing anything with a plot and I don't know if it will be any good. Hope someone will like it or have some fun reading it. I don't have a beta and English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes. Feel free to point out any mistakes either in the content or in grammar.  
> Have fun!

When Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, he surprised everybody. Depending on the person, they expected various things: from a pampered brat to an adventurous but well mannered boy to a golden hero. What they certainly didn’t expect, was this child, too thin for it to be healthy, with head shaved almost to the bone, Avada Kedavra-green eyes shining out of a dark-colored face. Even when he sat on the stole and they waited waited, waited, _waited_...they didn’t expect... _”Slytherin!”_

Quickly they hailed him either a magical prodigy or a cheating slob because _certainly James Potter’s son couldn’t be any good at potions_. What infuriated some of Harry’s classmates and gave others a new reason to admire him (until he moved and they saw what color of tie was he wearing) was that he couldn’t explain how he understood what he did. After the first few times when his explanations basically boiled down to “you just have to feel it”, the other first years gave up on trying, not without muttering about people too stuck up for their own good. What they didn’t know, was that the reason for Harry feeling so natural with magic wasn’t, in any way, a matter of envy.

The vast majority of Harry’s teachers back in Surrey believed him to be a rather dull child and a troublemaker. The former because Harry learned very early in his life that if he wants to get anything for dinner, he shouldn’t bring home better grades than Dudley. The latter because of a few situations connected with the color of his teacher’s wig or Harry ending up on the school’s roof. Harry, however, was a bright child and quickly realized that other kids don’t talk with snakes, can’t make create lights out of nothing, and definitely don’t have the ability to regrow their hair overnight. For the first time in his life (at least in his memory), Harry found himself at an advantage. So he practiced and practiced and _practiced_. And he learned how to open locked doors without a key, how to burn things without touching them, how to summon stuff into his hand. He just felt this weird tingling and he knew how to get it done. And then he learned it was magic that sung in his veins and he vowed to himself that he would be the best damn wizard they have ever seen.

The world will never know what hit them. 


	2. In which Harry is Hadrian and adults can’t understand what young boys do in the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/2 for today

“Hadrian! Hadrian, wait!” the voice of Blaise Zabini rings in the corridor and Harry, what shows how only one week with Slytherins has adapted him to their antics, finds himself only slightly surprised when he realizes that Zabini is shouting to him.

“Dear Merlin, Hadrian,” the other boy pants slightly. “How can you walk so fast? And why didn’t you stop?”

“Well...it may have something to do with the fact that my name is Harry not Hadrian.” Fortunately, Harry doesn’t have to come up with any explanation to why he walks so fast ( _Harry Hunting_ , _be faster or be beaten_ ), as he is interrupted with the most patronizing look an 11-year-old boy could muster.

“Of course it is, Hadrian. It suits you much better.” And before Harry can express any offense on behalf of his name, he is being dragged down the corridor. “Come along, now. Draco’s mother sent him a package with sweets, you don’t want to miss it.”

It seems that, whether he wants it or not, Harry is now a Slytherin through and through.

\--

Appraently, in the wizarding world it is weird for teenage boys to pee. Or use the toilet. Harry reached this conclusion after fifth person asked him what he was doing there.

“So, I was washing my hands,” Harry stops to look at the gathered professors to see if that will also be surprising for them. “Then, I heard somebody scream bloody murder so I decided to check if anyone needed help. I saw Hermione struggling with the troll so I _Wingardium Leviosa_ d its club and knocked it out.”

“Why weren’t you in the Great Hall in the first place, Potter?” Professor Snape seems to have a personal grudge against him and some troubles with understanding spoken text.

“I know it may be a bit confusing,” Harry starts explaining slowly for the umpteenth time,”but I drank too much pumpkin juice so I went to the toilet before dinner...

\--

After the adults finally manage to understand how Harry ended in the toilet, he and Hermione are allowed to leave. They reach the place where they have to part their ways when Hermione finally stops puffing under her breath.

“Hadrian, I would like to thank you for saving my life. Would you like to study together?” All Harry can do is nod weakly and watch her go, as he wonders, how the hell did Blaise manage to persuade the Hogwarts population that his name is, in fact, Hadrian.


	3. In which Harry celebrates his first Christmas at Hogwarts and finds a mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2 today
> 
> I forgot to add that when I was writing one of the later chapters, I decided that I prefer present tense and I had to change all the previous chapters. The first one is the only left with past tense :(

Being sorted into Slytherin apparently means Harry has friends. At least that’s what Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Daphne told him before leaving for Christmas brake. Or, to be more precise, they told him that friends exchange Christmas presents and that they will be waiting for his owl.

Still, Harry is surprised to see a pile of presents laying by the side of his bed, all labeled _Harry Potter_ , except for one which said _Harold Potter_. Even Blaise’s newest idea couldn’t diminish his happiness, as Harry goes down to the Common Room with his presents, to find a few other Slytherins waiting for everyone to come down. In the corner sits the Slytherin prefect, Gemma Farley, cozied up with her boyfriend, Gabriel Lithgow. A long, dark green couch is occupied by the pretty twins from the second year: Claire and Chiara Greenford. Sprawled on the floor are Adrian Pucey and his boyfriend, Marcus Flint, respectively the chaser and the captain for Slytherin quidditch team, deep in discussion about whether wrapping paper should be teared apart or delicately cut.

They spend the morning unpacking their presents, drinking hot chocolate and laughing, and for the first time in his life, Harry truly feels at home. However, when the evening comes, Gemma and Gabriel disappear upstairs to the accompaniment of the girl’s giggling and Marcus begins whispering more and more intensely in Adrian’s ear. One look exchanged between Harry and the twins is enough for them to reach an understanding and they all flee the Common Room: the girls go to their dormitory and Harry is left standing alone in the corridor. So he does the only reasonable thing that comes to his mind - he puts on the glimmering silver cloak which he received from an unknown giver and he goes to explore the castle.

The mirror is a beautiful thing of old gold twisted into intricate designs. Despite its beauty, Harry feels something is off with the mirror. While keeping what he considers a safe distance from the thing, Harry circles the mirror and finds himself standing in front of it. In the reflection he can see himself standing with two people who look almost like teenagers. They look both similar and different than Harry: the man has unruly black hair just like his own but a wild grin, which is rarely present on Harry’s face. The woman also has green eyes but her radiant skin and long red hair plaited in two braids make the resemblance between her and Harry much smaller. Despite all that, and never having seen their photos, Harry knows the couple are his parents. Suddenly more people appear in the reflection: he can see Draco, Hermione, Blaise, Millicent, and other Slytherins. They are laughing and looking at Harry with pride. He can see no animosity between them, not even towards Hermione.

_What a weird fucking mirror_ , thinks Harry and leaves the room to look for the kitchens, which he heard are enormous.

For the next few nights, Albus Dumbledore stands disillusioned in the corner of the room, waiting for young Harry to come back and look at his family. He never does.

The rest of the Christmas break is spent on finishing homework, avoiding the older students at times when they are busy with... each other and practicing Quidditch. Lots of Quidditch because, once Adrian and Marcus saw Harry flying, they decided he was the future seeker of the Slytherin team, no discussions.


	4. In which Hermione sings Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how i wrote the whole year in 5 chapters, it's a wonder   
> anyways, hope you will like it even though it's short :(( apparently i have problems with writing longer things

When Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin, many people thought it was a mistake. They couldn’t fathom how The Boy Who Lived, additionally to being a Potter, could have any appropriate qualities. However, they learned quickly that Harry is, in fact, the embodiment of what a Slytherin should be. He is cunning, polite, knows how to hide his feelings. There is just one quality that Harry lacks - self-preservation.

That is how Harry finds himself standing in the third floor corridor, accompanied by Hermione and a boy with very red hair, lots of freckles and a name which Harry, for the life of his, cannot remember. The boy is giving Hermione very subtle looks, which in Harry’s opinion very clearly are supposed to convey that the boy doesn’t trust him.

“Ron-”

 _Ron? Never would have guessed_ , thinks Harry.

"Ron," Hermione’s voice is full of reproach. “Hadrian is a great wizard-“

“Harry.”

“Excuse me?” the girl is quite annoyed at being interrupted.

“My name is Harry, not Hadrian. It’s just that Blaise thought Hadrian suits better.”

Hermione eyes him with a weird look in her eyes and continues her tirade. “Harry is a great wizard, he saved my life from the troll. You’re being prejudiced just because he is in Slytherin. I, on the other hand, am sure that he will help us.”

_Well, that is something new._

“If I may, help you with what, Hermione?” he asks.

“Professor Snape is trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone,” says Hermione with the full certainty of an 11-year-old. Harry can’t help but laugh. Ron scowles.

“Snape?” Harry asks incredulously. “He hates every single one of us but he would never steal from Dumbledore. I betcha, if anyone’s suspicious in this school, it’s Quirrell. I don’t like the color of his turban.”

Hermione is about to respond when they hear the sound every student out of bed after curfew dreads to hear - Ms. Norris meowing. Before Harry can do anything sensible like take out his invisibility cloak, Ron ( _boy, is he strong_ ) grabs them both by arms and drags into the room outside of which they have been standing. And Harry would have been grateful for Ron’s quick thinking if it wasn’t for the fact that they are now facing a Cerberus. A very angry, saliva-dripping, three-headed dog. To make the matters worse, he can’t open the door they have just closed behind them. Harry can remember a piece of information about music and Cerberus but _oh my god, was it calming or angering for the animal?_ His frantic thoughts are interrupted by a surprisingly clear falsetto.

 _“Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on”_ Harry looks at Hermione in amazement and joins her singing, not caring about Ron’s weirded-out looks.

 _“Does anybody know what we are looking for? Another hero, another mindless crime”_ The dog starts to blink slowly, the three heads laid on the ground. While still singing, Hermione gestures towards the trapdoor and Harry, as unhappy as he is about it, can only agree - it is their only way of escape.

His last thought before he jumps into the darkness is _Show must go on. God save Queen_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i really like the idea of muggleborn/halfblood/whatever students singing muggle hits and confusing purebloods and i realised that this pearl is from 1991 and i'm quite sure it's harry's second year in hogwarts. even if it's not, it doesn't really matter


	5. In which Quirrell’s turban is of a really weird shade of maroon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel that maybe my harry may seem a bit mature? like when it comes to girls-boys stuff or swearing but i'm basing it on 11 yr old me. i don't know what that says about me :(
> 
> enjoy!

They land on something weirdly solid and flexible at the same time. This something grabs Harry’s ankle and proceeds to grow upwards his legs. 

“Lumos!” Fortunately, the Devil Snare backs away from the light. 

“Relax,” says Harry to the clearly panicking Ron. “You have to relax your body, then you will fall through.” 

The other boy stops trashing around and the three of them fall into the lower level. 

Then Harry catches a flying key, which earns him a grudging whistle of respect from Ron. The redhead - bravely in Hermione’s opinion , stupidly, in Harry’s - sacrifices himself at the end of a really good round of chess. And then Hermione solves a riddle, and they both take a sip of a weirdly tasting potion, and then...and then something weird happens. Harry steps through the fire wall but when Hermione tries to do the same, she bounces off of it as if it was rubber. Despite trying hard, the girl can’t go forward - that is how Harry finds himself entering the next room by himself. 

“I knew something was off with the turban!” Harry exclaims with satisfaction in his voice, clearly surprising Quirrell. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, Hermione and Ron thought that Snape wants to steal the stone but I thought it was you because your turban is of a really weird color. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wear this weird shade of maroon before.” 

Quirrell looks at Harry as if he was mentally challenged, which, for the record, he isn’t. After a second, the man seems to snap out of his state and suddenly Harry is bound with tight black ropes. Quite kinky, in his humble opinion. Quirrell moves to stand before the mirror and starts muttering to himself, when a distorted voice whose origins Harry can’t find speaks.

“Use the boy.” 

It is both smooth and hoarse at the same time, deep and high-pitched. Harry finds himself being dragged and placed before the mirror but instead of his parents, he sees himself holding a ruby-red stone and putting it in his pocket. The reflection winks to Harry and _damn, does he really have such messy hair?_

“What do you see, Potter?” asks Quirrell. 

“That I should ask Draco to teach me a hair-grooming spell.” 

His response is met with a frustrated growl and the voice speaks one more, this time addressing his professor. 

“Quirrell, let me talk to the boy.” 

“Master, I don’t think you’re strong enough,” the moment these words leave Quirrell’s mouth, he starts whimpering, holding his left arm in pain. Quirrell unveiles his turban and Harry is faced with the ugliest man he has ever met. He can’t help but cringe. 

“Harry Potter...The Boy Who Lived...” the back of Quirrell’s head says. “Such an interesting child.” 

“Are you Voldemort?” Harry asks, although he is quite certain he knows the answer. 

“Yes, and because of you I am bound to this pathetic form. But I can forgive you if you give me the stone” 

Now, Harry doesn’t particularly care for pleasing Dumbledore who would definitely be disappointed in him. He also doesn’t really remember his parents and if you see someone for the first time when you’re eleven years old, you don’t miss them, regardless if they conceived you or not. Still, something in Harry revolts against letting Voldemort win because, why should he? 

His thoughts have to be written on his face as Voldemort starts speaking again. 

“You can join me, Harry Potter. You and I, together, we could be great. You could be great. I can offer you power like no one else can.” 

And Harry, this small, malnourished thing, who was told for years that he’s worth nothing and freak and useless bastard and a waste of space- Harry hesitates. Because, even though he’s only eleven, he knows himself well enough to acknowledge that a piece of his soul will forever be charred, rotten, coal-black and full of hatred for the Dursley. 

And maybe it’s a pity that Albus Dumbledore arrives only after Harry moved and burned Quirrell with his touch because if he saw this moment of hesitation, maybe he could have been able to save Harry Potter.


	6. In which Harry experiences a rollercoaster of emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh the longest thing I've ever posted here 
> 
> this work has no warnings but I guess there's some mention of abuse here so if anyone's upset by that, there will be a summary of this chapter at the end

Harry is listening to the soothing rhythm of the Hogwarts Express, his head in Pansy’s lap. She is threading her fingers through his hair and from time to time he catches glimpses of the light pink nail polish. He tries his hardest to zoom out and ignore the constant stream of voices which hasn’t stopped since the other Slytherins learned about what has happened. They rotate between bemoaning his stupidity (Blaise and Millie), mothering him (Draco and Pansy) and sitting in stunned silence (Tracey).

Harry doesn’t want to acknowledge the empty spaces left by Theodore and Daphne who became much colder to him when they learned, who exactly Harry met and defeated once more. He doesn’t want to admit it but he is afraid that the rest of his friends will also turn on him. It doesn’t seem very likely but Harry knows a lot about betrayal and not much about trust. Still, regardless of the disapproving voice in his head, Harry decides to focus on the memories from the feast and how his table was so happy to see the Great Hall adorned in silver and green. Knowing that the next two months won’t be as peaceful, he lets himself fall asleep.

With a heavy heart Harry realizes it’s time to say goodbyes to all of his friends. He is hugged by the girls, shakes hands with Draco and Blaise because apparently they have to upkeep their public image. Even Ron comes, despite the looks sent to him by Draco.

Eventually, Harry steps through the barrier and is welcomed by a cuff to his head. He switches back to the well known mentality practiced during the ten years at the Dursleys. He stops listening, only quipping “yes, sir” and “no, sir” at appropriate times. It is going to be long two months.

Harry is angry. Uncle Vernon locked his school things in the cupboard. Fortunately, he was able to save his Potions book so at least Snape won’t be able to get angry with him. And at least Hedwig is with him, although Harry feels bad when he looks at her as he can only let her out at nights. He turns to lay on his stomach and starts penning a letter to Blaise.

Harry is tired. His back is burnt by the scorching sun and his arms hurt from gardening. He has already cleaned the whole house and cooked lunch for the Dursleys. From time to time he looks at the sky, shielding his eyes with a dirty hand. There is no response from his friends.

Harry is bleeding. His hands are bleeding from the rough ropes he used in the garden. His back is bleeding from the cuts left there by Uncle Vernon’s belt. His knee is bleeding from when he fell when he was running away from Dudley. But, worst of all, his heart is bleeding because he allowed himself to hope, to open up to people he had thought of as friends and now they are gone. He hasn’t received a single letter, not from Mille, not from Draco, not a single phone call from Hermione. He isn’t even angry any more.

Harry is surprised because a fucking who-knows-what is standing on his bed.

“Harry Po-o-otter, sir!” The thing, whatever it was, cries loudly.

“Shhh...” Harry can’t allow it to interrupt the dinner going downstairs. “Who are you?”

“Harry Potter, sir, wants to kno-o-ow Dobby’s na-a-ame.” The creature is definitely too loud.

“Dobby, was it?” It wobbles its big head up and down. “Shut up, Dobby, please, or so help me God...”

It seems that the threat worked as the creature shuts his mouth and looks at Harry with big, shiny eyes. Harry explains quietly: “I need you to stay calm, or else my uncle and aunt will be very angry, okay? Now, can you tell me, what are you exactly and why are you here?”

“I is a house elf,” Dobby starts in a stage-whisper. “I is here to warn Harry Potter, sir from returning to Hogwarts.”

“Why can’t I go back?” asks Harry. “Dobby can’t tell but bad, bad things will happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter, sir will be in danger. Dobby can’t allow that.”

“Okay, Dobby, listen to me,” Harry lowers his voice even further as he hears some noises from downstairs. “Do you see how I look? I may be in danger at Hogwarts but at least no one beats me there.”

Dobby looks at him with unease and Harry knows it’s his chance.

“I am being starved here, I can’t continue my education, they beat me every day. At least at Hogwarts, I am protected by my teachers and the headmaster. Don’t you think they will help me? I appreciate your care, really I do but no matter what happens at Hogwarts, I can’t stay here.”

Dobby is quiet for a few seconds, then he reluctantly nods. Harry would have been happy with that if it wasn’t for the tears that gather in Dobby’s eyes and the loud, high-pitched crying that ensues.

“Dobby is a b-a-ad house e-elf! Dobby has to punish hi-i-imself! Dobby took Harry Po-o-otter’s, sir’s lette-e-ers!”

Suddenly a dozen envelopes in all shades and sizes appear in his hands. For a moment Harry is filled with relief because maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t abandoned by his friends at all. However, the feeling of happiness doesn’t last long. He hears a commotion downstairs, his uncle’s raised voice mixed with the strange voices he doesn’t know, then the door slam, quick footsteps on the pavement and heavy creaking of the stairs. The door to his room open, revealing a very angry Vernon Dursley.

Harry is in deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if anyone didn't read it, it's about Harry being abused by the Durselys, there's Dobby that steals his letters and later gives them back. oh and Daphne and Theo abandoned Harry after he defeated Voldie :((


	7. In which Harry is rescued and Dursleys are orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh I have no idea what's the name of Lady Zabini so you will have to let is slide 
> 
> comments/kudos greatly appreciated ;)

The parchment is bloodied and sweaty under his fingers. Since he has received the letters, Harry has reread them several times; he feels they are his only lifeline. He thinks that he’s going insane: he can’t leave his room except for cooking and doing chores. Even his secret escape - sitting on the rooftop - isn’t available for him anymore, as Vernon put thick metal bars in the window. There are several locks on the door and a cat flap through which Petunia gives him cold soup.

Harry has stopped calling them “Uncle” and “Aunt”. He can’t muster any warm feelings for his “family”.

Harry paces in circles, feeling like a caged animal. He remembers the tiger he saw in the zoo which they visited for Dudley’s birthday. The animal had a haunted look in its eyes and it was circling the pen, just like Harry is now doing.

Suddenly, he hears a muted voice of someone who has no possibility of being there.

_Great. I really am going insane._

Harry sits on the bed and puts his head in hands. He isn’t sure if he can still breath and the room is spinning around. Then there is a crush and a bang and his door fly open, letting fresh air inside.

“Blaise?” Harry’s voice is rough from not using it for almost a month. He licks his chapped lips and tries again. “Are you real?”

Blaise is looking at him with something weird in his eyes and Harry closes his because if he sees any sign of pity on the other boy’s face, it would be too much. Because not that deep down, inside of Harry is a kid sleeping under the stairs who was told once and again that he is a liar and a freak and no one will ever believe him. And the only way Harry could make this kid survive was by closing off to the world, becoming colder. So if he sees pity right now, Harry will feel like a failure.

He realizes that Blaise is speaking to him and opens his eyes ever so slowly. “We were all so worried, you didn’t answer any mail,” Blaise steps inside the room. “Thank Merlin I convinced mother to come see if everything’s all right.”

“I’m fine,” Harry’s voice is cold. “I couldn’t answer the letters but everything’s fine. You can go now.”

Blaise looks at him with a spark of annoyance. “You can’t honestly think that I will let you stay here?”

“I don’t need help, Blaise.”

The boy is about to say something when a beautiful woman appears behind him. “Blaise,” she says, ”let me talk to Mister Potter. You can wait downstairs.”

She looks Blaise in the eyes and something in Harry aches because he knew that he will never have someone who will understand him so well. When they are left alone, Lady Zabini turns towards Harry.

“Mister Potter, I will be honest with you. When Blaise first wrote that he’s friends with you, I was hesitant. There are families which don’t see you in a positive light and I always put my son’s safety first. However he was adamant and told me, he won’t stop getting to know you. For the last two weeks, he has been very anxious about your well-being. Please, allow yourself to let us help.”

She is looking at him with wise, chocolate-brown eyes and Harry can’t resist anymore. He nods his head and, despite feeling like a child, takes Lady Zabini’s hand. They go downstairs together where they find _Silencio_ ed Dursleys. Blaise stands by their side, not looking guiltily at all.

“What? They were loud,” he says with a smirk. “Are we going home?”

“Yes, darling. We just need to take Mister Potter’s things.”

“Just Harry, please,” he interrupts.

“Very well, then,” Lady Zabini smiles slightly. “You can call me Dalia. Where is your trunk?”

Now, Harry doesn’t know what to do. One thing is Zabinis discovering he is locked in his room but showing them the cupboard is something else altogether. “You can wait outside,” he says, trying to sound as unsuspicious as possible.

Unfortunately, Dalia is too stubborn (or too understanding of his situation), so he walks to the cupboard and takes out his things while trying to hide the inside of it as much as possible. However, malnourished 11-year-olds who haven’t really eaten for a month don’t have much body to shield anything. Dalia looks ( _why does he have to be so short?_ ) over his shoulder and she sees his deepest secret. A worn-out cot covered by a threadbare blanket. A few little green soldiers, each missing a limb. A piece of paper stuck to the wall, “Harry’s Room” written on it with colorful crayons.

“What is that, Harry?” she asks quietly but her voice is laced with fury.

“It doesn’t matter.” He states firmly. “We have my things so we can go now.”

Blaise takes a few steps towards them and, despite Harry glaring at him, he looks inside as well. His gaze lands on the drawing and Harry can see something change in the other boy’s eyes but he can’t quite understand what it is. No one has ever cared for him, after all. In a blur of motion, Blaise turns towards Dursleys and suddenly their skin is the ugliest shade of neon orange. Petunia shrieks, her disgust and terror strong enough to break Blaise’s silencing spell.

Dalia takes both boys by their arms and disapparates. It’ss enough Muggles for a day.


	8. In which there are stories about the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo actually it's the last chapter of year 1!!   
> there are some scenes that I think may be a bit upsetting? (mention of suicide, homophobic slur) they are brief but if you don't want to read it, I will leave a summary at the end of the chapter   
> as always, I'm v grateful for kudos/comments

Harry spends the rest of the summer at the Zabini Manor or visiting his other friends. He is cold, uncomfortable with touch but he soon melts under the constant stream of warmth and laughter and delicious food. Sometimes he feels the others’ eyes on him but he ignors them and they respect it. Harry is more grateful for that than they could imagine.

He can’t sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees his uncle, coming for him with his belt. After half an hour of turning around in his bed, Harry decides to go on a walk to clear his head. Quietly, as to not wake up Blaise, he closes the door behind him and starts wandering the spacious corridors of the manor. He climbes one stairs after another, going higher and higher, passing sleeping portraits and elaborate chandeliers until he reaches the highest window in the house. He opens it and in a few well-practiced movements he is sitting on the edge of the roof. He is about to find a comfortable place when he hears a voice.

“Harry?” Blaise is clearly anxious. “Why don’t you come down? We can talk, you can tell me anything you want.”

“It’s okay, Blaise. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Harry, Harry, listen to me,” his voice is trembling. “I know things are bad for you but I promise, it will be better. You don’t have to do anything stupid.”

Now, Harry is confused. _Does Blaise...?_

He laughes and it is more harsh than he would have liked.

“I’m not suicidal, Blaise. Come, you can sit with me.”

After ten minutes, a lot of swearing and Blaise threatening Harry to kill him if he falls, they are lying on their backs, looking at the sky.

“When I was seven, I learnt that I can climb the roof at Dursleys’,” whispers Harry. “I have spent there a lot of time in the last years.”

“Why...why didn’t you tell us anything?” whispers back Blaise. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing,” he adds quickly.

“I...you know that no one has ever believed me? I’ve been called a liar for saying I’m hungry. I’ve been called a cheater for getting a better grade than Dudley. I’ve been a freak, a disgrace, a dirty Hindu. Petunia used to shave my head once a week so I don’t catch any more attention with my dark hair. I’ve been called a juvie criminal for spending time in the library, for Christ’s sake!”

“Who?” Blaise is a bit confused.

“...Jesus Christ? Of course, you don’t know anything about Muggles,” Harry laughs quietly. “Basically, they believe that he was a dude who sacrificed his life to save humanity. He is their God.”

“And you don’t believe in him?”

“How could I? He has never saved me.”

It is the last night before the beginning of the school year, Harry and Blaise are once again sitting on the rooftop.

“This one is Cassiopeia, sometimes called the Queen of the Night Sky,” Harry points to a group of stars. “She boasted about her beauty so much that Poseidon got angry with her and put her on the sky, upside down.”

Harry turns his head to look at Blaise. The moonlight gives his skin an otherworldly gleam and Harry feels something in his chest. He ignores the feeling (he can still remember blue eyes, a flutter in his stomach, screams and blood, _don’t look at me, faggot_ ).

“And that one, Hardwin?” Blaise asks, trying out a new name for Harry.

He turns to see at which constellation Blaise is pointing and laughs loudly. “You should really know this one. It’s Draco the Dragon, the guardian of all treasures of Zeus. Don’t let the blondie boy know, you didn’t realize that’s his constellation.”

They continue their game, Blaise asking for new stories and Harry telling everything he knows. He won’t lie and say that everything is good but it’s better than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you didn't want to read this chapter because of what I wrote in the notes at the beginning: basically, Harry spends time at Blaise's, they are becoming closer, they sit on the rooftop a lot, talking about stars and about our pal JC, it's revealed that Harry has liked a boy before ;))


	9. In which Harry hates Gilderoy Lockarth and loves the Fat Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s year 2 y’all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its very hard to edit text on phone so forgive me for any mistakes

Last year, Harry’s head hurt because of the smell of garlic and, apparently, Voldemort looking at him for a whole year. This year it is far worse.

Gilderoy Lockhart is the most conceited, bigheaded, narcissistic bastard Harry has ever met. The man is seemingly unable of talking about anything other than himself, his smile can blind the ones who didn’t shield their eyes.

He also has a weirdly strong influence on many girls and boys, though Harry can’t discover a pattern in who is attracted to the fool and who is not. Harry is terrified to see Hermione blush and giggle, and Millicent check her looks in a pocket mirror. Suddenly, they became very popular and almost everyone can be seen with a little mirror in their hand.

Surprisingly, Pansy isn’t affected by Lockhart at all.

  
“My mommy always said that if a man spends more time taking care of his nails than of you, then he’s not worth it,” is her only explanation.

Harry is glad that at least someone stayed sane. 

Somehow, Lockhart decides that Harry needs a training in handling his fame. Harry disagrees, though he has some moments of hesitation, notably when the youngest Weasley is around ( _he can hear Ron’s voice in his head “her name is Ginny and she has an enormous crush on you”_ ) or when the small Gryffindor kid wanders around with a camera.

Still, Harry thinks he is handling his fame pretty well. He told the kid that he can take photos and sell them, under the condition that Harry gets ten percent of the earnings. He doesn’t really need the money but it’s a fun thing to do.

Unfortunately, despite Harry’s protests, Lockhart continues pestering him about private meetings. When that doesn’t work, Harry gets a detention. Considering Snape’s attitude towards him, Harry can’t really ask the man to do anything about it.

That’s how he finds himself in Lockhart’s office, signing letters in his name. The man talks and talks and hasn’t stopped talking even for a minute. Harry has zoned out about 30 seconds into the detention. Mindlessly, he watches the quill leaving pink ( _magenta, dear Harry, it’s called magenta!_ ) ink on lavender paper, when he hears a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Lockhart. 

  
‘ _kill...reap them apart...purge the school...’_

  
Harry looks up and, he doesnt know if it’s a good or a bad sign, Lockhart doesn’t seem to have heard anything. 

  
“Sir, I believe it’s rather late, don’t you think?” 

  
The bumbling fool smiles at him brightly and after a few pieces of useless advice, Harry is finally free. As fast as he can without breaking into run, he goes to the Gryffindor common room, only to be stopped by the Fat Lady. 

  
“Good evening, ma’am. You look exceptionally beautiful today.”

The woman blushes and Harry knows he is on the good path.

“I’ve heard amazing things about your voice, could I maybe hear you singing?”

The next few minutes are a proof to Harry’s acting skills as he maintains a dreamy face despite the deafening voice ringing in his ears. When the Fat Lady finishes, he claps vigorously. 

  
“Fair lady, could I please enter the room? I know it’s not a standard situation but my dear friend, Hermione needs me for a moment.”

He can see the woman thinking but eventually, he knows he has won her over. The door swings open and Harry is met with the Common Room full of Gryffindors. 


	10. In which, in a time-period-unaccurate fashion, Harry references Gossip Girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I don't know if I havent already wrote about it so if I did than ignore me   
> I was thinking that maybe for an 11 year old Harry swears a lot?? but its because 1 he grew up around not-nice people and muggles who - i would say - swear a lot and 2 in my country, our swear words are much stronger and diversified than in English and saying 'fuck' isn't considered a swear word at all   
> so there's that 
> 
> hope you like it, comments/kudos make me happy ;))

"How did you manage to get in here?” shouts a brunette.

“That’s a secret I’ll never tell”, Harry winks at the girl but he is really looking for Hermione.

“What is the slimy Slytherin doing here”

“Why is he so short?”

 _Now, that is outright rude, making fun of his height_.

Harry ignores all the voices and makes a beeline to where Hermione is sitting, immersed in a huge book. Unceremoniously, he closes the book, making the girl jump out of surprise.

“Harry?! What are you doing here?”

“We were supposed to meet and talk about our summers,” he says cheerfully, leading Hermione towards her dormitory. “Don’t you remember?”

“Harry, you can’t go in there,” protests Hermione.

“Why not?”

“The stairs are charmed so that boys can’t enter our rooms.”

Harry turns around and gapes, causing a few people to snicker and others to mumble in the defense of their House. “Jeez, so what do you do when you want some private action?”

He doesn’t receive an answer before Hermione drags him through the hole in the wall and they are standing in the corridor.

“Well, what do you really want from me?” she asks. “I’ve seen you literally three days ago.”

“Okay, so, you may think I’m going crazy but you can’t say that because you’re the one who is in love with Lockhart, right? I was sitting in a detention with him when I heard a voice threatening to kill someone and purge the school. I have no fucking idea what that may be but you’re the smartest person I know so if you have any ideas, please come to me.”

Hermione looks at him with concern. Fortunately, it seems to be directed at what he heard not at the fact that he heard anything at all. “If anything comes to my mind, I will talk to you, okay?”

Harry nods, grateful for having Hermione as his friend and turns to leave.

“Harry?” Hermione calls out behind him. “Be careful.”

He enters the Slytherin common room and with a slight head movement, tells others to meet in the boys’ dormitory. After a few minutes, the whole group is there.

“I need to talk to you and I need you not to freak out. I think that there’s something bad-“ he stops abruptly.

“What is it, Harry?” Tracey is visibly upset.

“Oh shit. Oh shit, I haven’t thought about that.”

“Harry,” Draco puts a hand on his arm, neither of them noticing how Blaise traces the movement with his eyes. “You are scaring us. Can you tell us what’s going on?”

“Er, I know it may sound kinda weird but a house elf visited me during the holidays. He told me that I can’t return to Hogwarts because it won’t be safe for me. And now, when I was having the detention with Lockhart, I heard a voice talking about killing someone and the pampered boy-“ Harry ignores Millicent gasping at the insult “-he didn’t hear anything. I don’t know if we should be worried but I want you to stay safe, okay?”

“Harry, I...” Draco is visibly hesitant about what he wants to say. “I don’t mean that I don’t believe you but is it possible that you misheard or that you’re simply tired? The holidays weren’t the greatest for you and-“

“Yes, Draco,” Harry’s voice can cut stone and Tracey, the softest of them all, winces. “Thank you for reminding us that my relatives are shitty. I like to think that even with them treating me like a punching bag, I managed to stay sane.”

With that, Harry turns on his feet and locks himself in the bathroom. Maybe it's not the most impressive move but it’s the only way he can be left alone.


	11. In which Blaise is jealous and Harry is (almost) killed by a bludger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo it's another shortie - I feel a lil guilty about it so maybe I will post another one today

“Harry, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have questioned you but I just wondered whether there is any possibility of explaining what you have heard. Still, I shouldn’t have mentioned your family.”

Harry, who is sitting on a windowsill, turns his head in Draco’s direction.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not angry at you,” he smiles and Draco smiles back in relief. “Come here, I’m watching Hufflepuffs, they’re having the trials for the team.”

Draco sits by Harry, their knees touching, the two boys laughing and criticizing the scene outside the window.

“I’m telling you, Pans, the Weird Sister are _not_ better than the Blair Girls,” Blaise continues heatedly, his hands flying around.

“It’s all about the-“ he stops abruptly.

Pansy looks up to see what has provoked such a sudden reaction and a knowing smirk appears on her face.

“What are you going to do about it?” she motions towards the two boys.

“It’s not my business,” says Blaise through clenched teeth. “Why should I do something if I don’t care?”

“Darling, we’ve known each other since we were two. You really have to try harder if you want to lie to me.” Pansy smiles sweetly and pats his arm. “And Blaise? Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

There is wind in his face and movement and speed and Harry has never felt so alive. He dodges a rogue bludger which is becoming annoying because it seems to be following him and no one else.

“PUCEY!” Harry screams against the wind. “There’s something wrong with the fucking bludger!” he does a roll in air which elicits a gasp from the stands.

At least if he dies, he will be remembered as a good flyer.

“DO SOMETHING, PUCEY!” he hollers for the last time and then he has to fly away.

He does a few loops and a spiral dive and- there, he sees a flash of gold and he’s changing direction but it’s only a watch reflecting the sunlight and suddenly he’s hanging from the broom with one hand and there’s screaming and he’s falling.

In the end, there’s only darkness.


	12. In which the Chamber of Secrets is opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys it may be a bit big-headed of me cause I'm not super popular or anything however I wanted to use my work to spread awareness. maybe you have noticed that I usually post on Tuesdays - I didn't yesterday, because of the #blackouttuesday - it was a day to stop posting our own content and focus on the voices of the Black community. however it's not enough to post a black square on your instagram feed; remember to educate yourself, read or watch some movies which are recommended on many sites rn, be actively anti-racist.  
> that's it sweeties, hope that you're all doing okay!

The darkness is nice. It’s comfortable and quite warm. It’s not like at the Dursleys, when darkness was always cold and painful. He thinks about waking up but why should he? The darkness is nice.

Sometimes he feels as if he is talking to someone. He’s weirdly light and he’s conscious and unconscious at the same time. There’s a constant stream of words in his head but he doesn’t recognize them. He’s floating.

He’s bored. How much can a girl talk about Harry Potter? Wait- _he_ is Harry Potter so why he has the feeling he’s never met this boy before? He’s a bit confused and very bored and terribly cold and stronger and stronger and he’s happy because his plan is working and-

Harry sits up with a gasp. He sees Madam Pomfrey coming to him and suddenly he’s hung over the edge of the bad, puking straight at a pair of shiny black slippers. He wipes his mouth and raises his head to meet two blue eyes, looking at him with a mixture of disgust, relief and happiness.

“Hi, Pans,” he manages to say. “Sorry for the shoes.”

He is enveloped in a hug, his friends muttering one over another how scared they were.

“Wait, wait,” Harry stops them. “Something has happened.”

“Well, of course it did,” Draco looks at him incredulously. “You were out for two weeks. The bludger smashed your head.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s whatever, I’m talking about something that has just happened. Something big.”

Just as Harry ends the sentence, the doors to the Hospital Wing open and in rush Professors Snape and Flitwick. The smaller man is levitating something and Harry can’t understand at first but he realizes that the something is a student. That the student is Theodore Nott.

It’s the middle of the night and Harry is pretending that he’s sleeping. In reality, he’s listening to Dumbledore as in hushed voices, he discusses with other professors, what happened to Theodore.

“Albus,” the normally calm McGonagall is in a shaky state. “Do you really believe that the warning is true? That the...” she doesn’t finish.

“I’m afraid it is. The Chamber of Secret has been opened.”


	13. In which Harry reveals a secret.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hiiii sorry I was gone for so long but I didn't have access to my laptop :((   
> hope you like this one!!

The atmosphere in school is tense.

No one understands what has happened, the students don’t know who to trust. They are anxious and when Hermione Granger dares to interrupt Professor McGonagall and asks about the mysterious Chamber, the air almost buzzes with energy. The woman pursues her lips but she concedes.

“As you know, Hogwarts was founded by four great wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin wanted the school to be attended only by those he viewed worthy-“

“Purebloods,” spats a Gryffindor boy and everyone notices how the Professor doesn’t deduct points for promoting inter-house hate. “

"He created a mystical Chamber where he put a beast. According to the legend, he sealed the Chamber in a way that only his true heir would be able to open it and unleash the beast. It will allegedly purge the school of Muggleborns and Half-bloods. But it’s only a legend, after all.”

“Slytherins, right?” Millicent smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Even in fairy tales, they are the evil ones.”

“Did you notice what she said?” asks Harry. “She mentioned ‘purging the school’, just like the voice I heard.”

“D’you reckon it was the Slytherin monster?”

Before Harry can answer, Millie cuts him off: “Tracey, as a true Slytherin-“ ( _despite your blood status_ hangs in the air) “-you should not agree with the harmful propaganda against our House. Whether the legend is true or not, I forbid you from calling it ‘a monster’.”

“Well, okay, d’you reckon it was the Slytherin pet?” Tracey asks again.

They all look at her and Pansy can’t help but snort, completely un-lady like. A second later, they are laughing, letting out all the stress of the past few days. Finally they calm down and the serious atmosphere returns.

“What do you think it could be?” They sit in silence, thinking about the question.

“I may be wrong,” Hermione’s looking at them with a face that says _I’m-not-wrong-you-are-daft-but-I-won’t-say-it-sitting-with-a-group-of-Slytherins_. „I may be wrong but a snake seems like a pretty probable idea, doesn’t it?”

“Oh shit,” says Harry, quite eloquently. “Oh God, oh shit.”

“Language, Harry,” say Hermione and Draco at the same time, while Blaise mutters: “I have a déjà vu.”

“I need you to swear an oath before I can say anything more to you.” Harry knows that what he’s about to say may change a lot of things, but he’s willing to trust his friends.

They exchange hesitant glances and Harry has to look away because he knows that they have grown up together and they understand each other without words. And Harry doesn’t.

“I swear that I won’t tell anyone, who doesn’t already know, what I will learn from Harry James Potter,” Blaise looks Harry straight in his eyes; the rest repeats after him.

There’s a flash of magic and Harry feels much calmer.

“I, er, well, uh,” _or maybe he doesn’t?_ “I am a Parselmouth.”

There’s silence.

Harry isn’t sure if he’s breathing.

He feels strong arms around him and he’s shaking but he’s safe.

“It’s okay, Harry,” whispers Blaise in his ear. “It’s okay.”

They never see a blonde girl, walking away from the pillar she was hiding behind, a mixture of shock and glee on her face.


	14. In which everyone knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments made my heart really warm :)

It happens at breakfast.

There’s a sudden commotion at the Hufflepuffs’ table and a wave of whispers ripples through the Great Hall. Harry is confused as to what caused such a strong reaction when a Ravenclaw girl, known for her long legs and sharp wit, passes Pansy and in a motion that Harry wouldn’t have been able to catch if he wasn’t looking at Pansy, drops a piece of parchment in her lap. Pansy unfolds it and a sugar sweet smile appears on her face. Harry’s heart drops because he knows this smile. This smile means that something very bad has happened.

“Harry, hon, I will tell you something and you will remain calm, okay?”

He nods his head weakly and listens, though he already knows what Pansy will tell him.

“I don’t know how but people know you’re a Parselmouth. We’re going to finish eating and we’re going to kill the person who has spread the rumor.”

The group stands up from their places and a hush falls over the hall. Harry holds his head high and he has almost reached the entrance when he hears a voice.

“Who would have guessed that a Potter can be so cruel?” Daphne curls her hair around her finger and Harry knows that somehow she’s responsible for all this. “But to sic the beast on Theo? I’m impressed.”

“That _bitch_ ,” Draco hisses but they are outside before he can do anything.

“We really shouldn’t attract more attention than necessary, right Draco?” Blaise seems to be pissed but for a different reason that Harry can’t decipher. He decides it doesn’t matter right now.

Harry’s life at Hogwarts becomes much more difficult. He has to be constantly on guard so that no hex or fist reaches him. His friends are constantly by his side and he appreciates the support but he’s starting to feel a little over-controlled. Teachers turn a blind eye on the attacks on him, as long as they aren’t too dangerous. In the meantime, they try to find out what type of snake can do what was done to Nott. They can’t find anything and then two Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff are petrified at once (they learn this word the same day) and things are worse than ever.

Harry’s is almost late for Transfiguration and for the first time in a long time, he’s alone. There is only one corridor separating him from his destination when a hand grabs his robes by the back and he's dragged into an unused classroom. Before he can do anything, his wand is taken out of his pocket. He’s turned around and faced with four boys in red and gold ties. One of them is McLaggen, he flies for the Gryffindor team, not very well if Harry can add. Another boy is Wong, the older brother of the Hufflepuff kid. Harry doesn’t recognize the other two. They, on the other hand, seem to know him quite well.

“Four on one,” he says, “not very fair, huh?”

Maybe he should learn not to anger people who are that much bigger than him. The next few minutes are a well-known sequence of pain. Harry is laying on the floor, arms covering his head. He isn’t naive but he thought that this world will be different, yet, after all, the wizards who think so highly about themselves are no better than Muggles. This though makes him laugh and the Gryffindors stop beating him. His laughter makes them uneasy. He knows they are wondering if they have just done something bad. They quickly leave the room, the last one returns to throw his wand in the corner. Harry grins at him and he can feel the copper taste of blood on his tongue. The boy flees.

He opens the door to Transfiguration classroom and he hears Hermione gasp. He’s not surprised: he has a swollen eye, his lip is cut and he’s bleeding from his nose. McGonagall turns towards him with a stern face that morphs into shock.

“Mister Potter, what on Earth has happened to you?”

“Oh, you know ma’am. It’s the family atmosphere of Hogwarts,” he spits on the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to learn how to remove blood from your mouth not the Muggle way. I’ve been busy training to be the next dark lord.” He takes his place without another word, ignoring the stunned silence.


	15. In which only bad things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies, hope you'll like it :) as always comments are much appreciated <3

Harry won’t lie and say he’s not nervous. Being on a broom when almost the whole school is against him doesn’t look very appealing. Nevertheless, he’s standing on the pitch and he swings his leg to mount the broom when there’s a loud whistle and McGonagall hurries into the pitch.

“THE MATCH IS CANCELED,” her voice echoes around the stands and Harry has an ominous feeling. “ALL STUDENTS WILL GO TO THER COMMON ROOMS.”

She cancels the spell and moves towards Harry. 

“Mister Potter, Malfoy, you should come with me.” 

They look at each other. Something is very wrong. 

They look as if made of marble. Pansy looks perfect as ever, porcelain skin and dark blue nail polish on the outstretched hand. Hermione looks worse, her dark skin is pasty, normally bouncy curls hang limply around her face. 

“They’ve been studying together in the library,” says McGonagall, and _isn’t it surprising news?_ A Muggleborn and Heir Parkinson, spending time together. “Miss Granger had a mirror in her hand.” 

Harry looks at it, remembering all the times Hermione checked her hair before Lockhart’s lessons and how he made fun of her. He feels something in his throat but he doesn’t cry. 

The only thing that could be qualified as “good” about this situation is that some people decide that he’s not Slytherin’s heir after all. Harry doesn’t particularly care about their opinion but he doesn’t have to protect his back all the time. 

He’s almost at the doors to the Great Hall when- 

“Harry!” hisses someone. 

He looks around to see Ron, of all people. The boy signals at Harry to come closer. 

“I’ve been visiting Hermione,” the redhead stops and blushes.  Harry is merciful and lets it slide. “Um, and I found something. In, er, in her hand.” 

He shows Harry a piece of parchment and _is it possible that Hermione Granger destroyed a school book?_ It’s from a book treating about magical creatures. A basilisk. The word “pipes” written in Hermione’s neat script. Harry doesn’t feel good about this. 

They check every bathroom in the castle. They meet a ghost who cries a lot and apparently has a crush on Harry. 

They are scared because three more students are petrified and none of the adults is doing anything. 

_The safest place in Great Britain, my ass,_ scoffs Harry. 

There’s no more Quidditch, no more laughter, no teenagers making out in hidden corridors. 

The dinner is a quiet affair when Snape walks inside, black robes billowing behind him, like a bad omen. He says something to Dumbledore and the older wizard looks his age. He stands up and doesn’t have to shush anyone - they’re all waiting for something to happen. 

“Dear students,” he seems to gather himself. “Hogwarts will have to close.”


	16. In which important conversations take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys   
> I've posted a one-shot so if you want to read it, I would be very happy 👉🏼👈🏼   
> aaand we're nearing the end of this year

"Sugar quills? Chocolate frogs? Fucking exploding bon bons?”

The gargoyle moves. Harry shakes his head and steps on the staircase. He reaches to knock on the door when it swings open.

“Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore looks tired. “I apologize but it’s not the best moment.”

“Of course, sir, I just wanted to ask... Is there any possibility to stay in the castle? I don’t want to return home.” He tries to look as innocent and scared as possible.

“I’m afraid that it’s not an option, Harry. Hogwarts isn’t safe anymore.”

“And if the person responsible...if the culprit was caught, school won’t close, right?” Dumbledore looks at him seriously, his blue eyes lacking the usual spark. Harry lowers his eyes.

“Do you want to tell me something, my boy?” Harry wages the pros and cons in his head. He doesn’t trust Dumbledore and the man hasn’t done anything to stop the attacks.

“No, nothing. Goodbye, sir.” Harry leaves the office.

He doesn’t know that the old wizard feels his blood run cold - he’s had a similar conversation 50 years ago. What if the two boys are also similar?

Harry returns to the Common Room in foul mood but he’s immediately met by Draco and Tracey.

“Quick, Harry, we need to talk.”

The rest of their group is already in the dorm. They start speaking all in the same time and Harry has to stop them. “One person at a time, please.”

Millie looks at him seriously. “We know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is.”

“We have to go there,” says Harry.

“Excuse me, but are you insane?” Blaise is angry and again, Harry doesn’t understand why.

Blaise smiles at the rest of them apologetically and drags Harry into the bathroom. He puts a silencing spell around them. “You can’t be serious about going there by yourself. We should tell a teacher.”

“Yeah,” Harry scoffs, “because teachers have been so great to me this year.”

“Still, we are just children, there has to be someone who will help us,” Blaise is adamant.

“Don’t you understand? In my whole life, your mother was the only adult who has ever helped me. Just because they’re adults doesn’t mean that they’re good.”

Blaise looks at him helplessly. “I don’t want you to get hurt. A few weeks ago we...I didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up. And when you did, you called it ‘whatever’. How am I supposed to believe you won’t hurt yourself?”

Harry wishes he could say something else but even this beautiful boy isn’t worth losing Hogwarts. “Blaise, I- I need to do something. I can’t sit and wait for nothing. Hogwarts is my only home.”

Something flashes across Blaise’s face but it’s gone before Harry can recognize what the other boy is feeling. “Well,” says Blaise. “If you’re going, then I am going, too.”

They walk fast, praying that no teacher catches them. Harry is leading and suddenly he collides with Ron. “Oi, Harry, I was looking for you.”

“You should be in your Common Room, Ron.”

The redhead looks at Harry and scoffs. “Yeah, like you’re in yours. You’re going to the Chamber, aren’t you?”

Harry could lie but there’s determination set in Ron’s features and he nods.

“I’m going with you.” Ron glares at Draco who starts to protest. “He took Ginny down there.”

They proceed quietly, almost reaching the bathroom, when Harry sees Lockhart walking quickly, holding two suitcases. _Wait. Is he running away?_ It wouldn’t have mattered if not for the fact that Ron is very angry and very much a Gryffindor. In a matter of seconds, Ron is standing before Lockhart, his wand in hand and somehow also Lockhart’s wand in hand? Harry is actually impressed.

“You are the DADA professor,” says Ron. “And you’re coming with us, whether you want it or not.” Looking at Millie’s expression, Harry isn’t the only one impressed.

Finally, without any more interruptions, they reach Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.


	17. In which Harry meets Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending is v similar or the same words as in the books I think so full disclaimer the HP series wrote itself and belongs to no one, I do not profit from it <33  
> also I feel like there are some weird moments here but I don't really have the energy to do anything about it so yeah  
> comment your thoughts pls!

"Open,” says Harry but nothing happens.

“T’was English, mate, try again.” Ron looks at him half-scared, half-fascinated.

‘Open.' The sinks creak and move, opening an entrance to the underground.

They get distracted for a moment and it’s their fault, really, because suddenly Lockhart is holding Tracey’s arms behind her back, her wand in his hand, its tip digging in her neck. “If there’s one thing I’m good at,” he laughs a bit maniacally, “it’s memory charms. And that means that I know how to make them fail, on purpose. So you’re going to give me my wand and we will part ways or else her brain is going to resemble mashed potatoes.”

Slowly, Ron reaches out his hand with Lockhart’s wand in it. The man outstretches his hand and really, he should have foreseen that a Gryffindor whose sister has just been kidnapped by a monster, won’t capitulate so easily. In a blur of motion, Lockhart is laying on the floor, clutching his bleeding nose. Unfortunately, his grip on Tracey is strong and as he falls, he takes her down with him. She sits on the wet tiles, clutching her ankle, a pained expression on her face.

They decide to leave Millie with Tracey so she can take care of her. Ron pushes Lockhart first into the tunnel. They land on small animal bones and Draco looks as if he wants to be anywhere else.

“Close your eyes if you see anything moving.”

They creep forward, past the enormous snake skin which makes Lockhart sweat a bit. Suddenly, the man jumps on Ron, fires a spell, there’s a bang and Harry has to dive because there are rocks falling everywhere. Methodically, he checks his head, stomach and limbs to see if he’s hurt anywhere but fortunately, he was lucky. He looks around and realizes he’s alone.

“Blaise? Draco?” he asks, not wanting to acknowledge the hint of panic in his voice.

Draco’s voice is muffled when he speaks: “We’re okay. The idiot tried to steal Weasley’s wand and somehow he exploded the ceiling.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry pulls himself together. “Try to clear out some of the rocks, right? I’ll come back soon.”

“No, Harry, no,” Blaise has never sounded so panicked. “Are you kidding me? You can’t go there by yourself.”

Harry bites his lip _because what is he supposed to say?_

“You better come back alive, Harry James Potter or I’ll kill you myself.”

Harry laughs, some weight lifting from his chest: “At least I now know that you do actually know my name is Harry.”

His breath turns into little puffs as he enters the chamber. It’s very cold and Harry thinks of a morgue he once saw in Dudley’s TV show. The impression only strengthens when he sees Ginny Weasley. Her usually fiery red hair is dirty and matted, her freckles standing out on the pale skin. Harry kneels by her when he catches a movement in the corner of his eye and now he’s crouching, wand extended, pointing at a boy. _A really handsome boy._

“Who are you?” asks Harry.

The boy doesn’t answer, he just looks at Harry with his head tilted, dark eyes full of curiosity and enough confidence to make Harry feel that the boy somehow has an upper hand in this situation.

“Do you know that there is one subject that consumes the majority of poor Ginny’s mind?” the teen starts circling and Harry does too, two predators waiting for the other one to strike. “All the time she talks about the famous hero, how it is so weird that he is in Slytherin and how it actually suits him, but somehow still attracts people to himself. How even her older brother is a friend with this wonder of a boy and he doesn’t pay poor Ginny any attention. She talks about you, Harry Potter. I’m not surprised, even I wanted, and still want, talk to you, not anyone else.”

There’s something dangerous about the boy, a darkness that Harry somehow, inexplicably recognizes. “Tell me, Harry, how did a baby with no extraordinary magical talent was able to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?”

“Why do you care about Voldemort? You look too young to be linked with him in any way.”

“Voldemort is my past, present and future.”


	18. In which Harry doesn't say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've driven a car for the first time yesterday and it was really cool :) also pls comment what you think I will be v happy

There’s a basilisk chasing him and Harry doesn’t really know what to do.

 _Please, please, just let me survive this_ , he begs in his mind but he doesn’t have much hope. He has never thought he would die at the age of twelve but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Blaise will probable care, the others too but it’s not as if they can’t live without him. It doesn’t matter.

He presses himself into the cold wall, uneven stones digging into his back. They are a bit humid and his robes cling unpleasantly to his skin. He’s not sure where the basilisk is but he doesn’t dare move. Suddenly, he hears a trill of music and, not for the first time this year (it’s a bit worrying), Harry thinks he’s going insane. He runs into the main chamber where Tom-fucking-Riddle is leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck you, honestly!” Harry shouts and dives out of the basilisk’s way.

He hides behind a statue and observes as Dumbledore’s phoenix blinds the gigantic snake. He has no idea how did the bird get here but he won’t complain. He notices that it’s carrying a sword. It seems pretty weird to Harry but he has no time to think about it. He catches the sword and then he’s climbing a huge statue, thank God for his practice in jumping from roofs. And then the sword is in the basilisk’s throat and a fang is in Harry’s arm. It’s a kind of pain he has never felt before. It’s different from Riper biting his calf or Petunia cuffing his head with a pan. It is like acid spreading through his veins, his vision sways, there’s a bitter taste on his tongue. Harry sees the younger and hotter Voldemort look at the diary, in which he somehow put a piece of his soul, which Harry now somehow understands. In a last bout of consciousness, Harry stabs the diary with the fang and Voldemort screams and Harry screams and Voldemort disintegrates and why is Harry’s scar hurting so much and why is he alone and why he feels as if he has done something terrible and-

Nothing.

When he open his eyes, Harry is immediately blinded.

“Why-“ he coughs and tries again. “ Why do you keep putting me in the brightest spot here?”

There’s a whispered spell and when he opens his eyes again, he’s met with pleasant half-darkness. Harry tries to reach for his glasses but there’s a dull throb in his arm. He gasps and clutches his arm.

“Phoenix tears have amazing healing proprieties, Harry, yet you will need to rest your arm for a while.” Dumbledore is sitting on a chair by his side, his blue eyes twinkling as always. “You should thank Fawkes.”

“Excuse me, sir, but thank anyone? There was a fuc-, ehm, a basilisk in the school and no one did anything. I hear once and again that Hogwarts is the safest place in Great Britain and yet I almost died here. Three times.” 

Dumbledore looks at him with sadness but he doesn’t comment.

“Also, what’s with the sword?”

“It’s an old piece of magic, my boy. The sword comes to anyone who is in deep need of protection.” Dumbledore doesn’t seem at all surprised by what has happened to him and Harry realizes something. He doesn’t understand why but he feels deep in his bones that he will have to become strong enough, smart enough; just _enough_ to oppose Dumbledore. Because if he's a person who sends twelve years old boys to die, than he is not someone Harry can get behind. 

The old man leaves and Harry is immediately surrounded by his friends. He lets Hermione hug him for longer than usually; he’s really happy to see her.

“I can’t believe you fought a basilisk, mate,” Ron is looking at him, warmer than ever. “My parents really want to thank you... you saved Ginny, y’know?”

“How is she?”

A shadow passes Ron’s face but he gathers himself quickly: “She’s strong, much stronger than you could’ve expected. We, the twins and I, we feel awful for not noticing anything.”

Ron swallows and looks at the ground. Millicent, of all people, pats his arm.

“Potter, you really need to stop putting yourself in these situations,” she cracks a smile. “Blaise was even more annoying than usual.”

Blaise swats her arm, mumbling something and they all laugh, Harry feeling something flutter in his chest, but it’s interrupted by Draco’s voice.

“Did you..did you really meet You-Know-Who down there?” the blond looks a bit nauseous.

“Yes.”

“What has happened?”

Harry feels his voice caught in his throat and he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say anything. Because, how do you tell someone that you met a ghost of a boy and you were so alike? That you just know that there’s a connection between yourself and the darkest wizard of your era? How do you tell the first people who have ever cared for you that killing Tom Riddle felt a bit like killing yourself?

The answer is easy. You don’t.


	19. In which conversations will have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter babyyy

There’s a ‘pop’ and Dobby materializes in front of Harry. Harry nearly has a heart attack. He’s laying in his bed, staring at the forest-green curtains and he certainly doesn’t expect a house elf to appear on his lap.

“I guess you were right about the danger,” he smiles a crooked smile and Dobby nods, his ears hanging sadly.

“Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter, sir, but Harry Potter, sir, didn’t want to listen.”

“Say, Dobby, how did you know what was going to happen?” Harry regrets asking that immediately, as Dobby jumps off his chest and starts banging his head on the bedpost.

“Dobby is a bad house elf, bad, bad, bad!” he calms suddenly and the look in his huge eyes make Harry shiver. “This is not the end, Harry Potter.”

He pops away right before the curtains around Harry’s bed open.

“Pssst, are you sleeping?” Draco’s pale hair almost gleam in the dark. Harry sits, folding his legs underneath, making space for Draco. The boy is fidgeting, playing nervously with his sleeve; it’s so unusual for Draco that Harry instantly knows something is wrong.

“It may sound a bit crazy,” Draco doesn’t look him in the eye. “Were you just talking with a house elf named Dobby?”

“Yes?”

“It was the same one that was in your house during the holidays?”

“Yeah, Draco, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” he stammers, fair skin looking almost sickly. “It’s probably nothing.”

Harry knows it’s not true but he’s still tired and he lets it slide. Harry doesn’t know it yet but it will have consequences he can’t imagine.

“Professor, excuse me, professor!” Harry runs after Dumbledore.

The man turns and a grandfatherly smile appears on his face, “Harry, my boy, what can I do for you?”

“Can I talk to you, sir?”

“Of course, come to my office.”

The walk is awkward but Harry doesn’t let it show. His cheeks start to hurt from all the smiling.

“So, Harry, what brings you to me?”

“I was wondering if I could stay in Hogwarts over the holidays. I know we have talked about it before but now there’s no threat of a basilisk. Thanks to me, actually.”

“I’m afraid it’s not possible.”

Harry’s smile drops but he doesn’t back down.

“My relationship with my relatives is not... very amicable,” he looks at Dumbledore and sees that the man knows what he’s talking about. “I know there are some teachers who live here, I could help them. Or if they want to relax, I can just spend the whole time in my Common Room.”

Harry lets some desperation spill into his voice (unlike the smile, he doesn’t have to pretend). It makes him hate himself and Dumbledore so much more when the old wizard shakes his head slightly.

“I’m sure that your family cares about you. And you have to go back, there are special wards protecting you from Voldemort, around your house.”

“Do you really believe that a Muggle house is safer than Hogwarts?” Harry is furious.

“They protect not only you, but your family as well, Harry.”

Harry looks at Dumbledore incredulously. He stands up, his moves rigid.

“And Harry? I will know if you leave with any of your friends.” Dumbledore smiles the last time. In a few years time he will look back at this conversation and realize that it was the beginning of the end. That it could have all ended differently.

_“Even after knowing you for a few minutes, I can see that we are so similar,” Tom Riddle smiles but his eyes are stone cold. “Both orphans, both Slytherins, both Parselmouths... we even look alike.”_

_He circles Harry and stands behind him._

_“Maybe you will like killing as much as I do?”_

_Harry shudders under the warm breath on his neck. His hand slowly raises, wand ready, a foreign spell he shouldn’t know on his lips. Green light illuminates the scene, a young woman with red hair, he has seen this somewhere before-_

Harry wakes up with a gasp.He’s been having nightmares ever since he has returned to the Dursleys. It doesn’t help that because of Blaise’s spell, they hate him more than ever. He doesn’t get much sleep or much food. He notices that it’s more difficult after the whole year at Hogwarts but he grits his teeth and survives. He remembers the biology lesson when they learned about differences between surviving and thriving. Harry scoffs and turns on the other side. He still has an hour of sleep.


	20. In which Harry gets a scar and a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "this is normal text"  
> 'this is Parseltongue' 
> 
> hope you will like it babes <3

_Tom Riddle looking at him as if Harry is a mouse he can devour in one bite. "Your parents, Harry- Dumbledore- we are better than this- not as golden as I would have thought- are you afraid?- Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four- you know I'm right, Harry, you know that- sweet, little Ginny-"_

Harry sits under the window, faint buzzing of insects and the smell of pastries coming from Ms. Jenkin's kitchen making him sleepy. He listens to the news: the topic of this week is a dangerous criminal who escaped jail. He hears Vernon muttering something about worthless people and the government. It’s time to go back to gardening.

Harry tries to calm his breathing as he hides behind a dumpster. Normally he’s much faster than Dudley and his friends but Vernon tripped him on the stairs and Harry thinks his ankle may be twisted. He raises slightly, hoping that Piers is gone.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath when the huge blond catches his eyes and smiles nastily. It’s not Harry’s lucky day.

‘Magic blood! Magic human!’

Harry groans. He feels there’s something wrong with him. He checks his ribs, one of them seems to be broken. His legs are okay, apart from the throbbing ankle. His left elbow feels funny but it’s nothing serious.

‘Magic human hurt!’

Harry opens his eyes rapidly, only to moan from excruciating pain. He feels the coppery taste in his mouth. Slowly, he tries to open his eyes once more but he can only see with his right eye. The left is covered in so much blood that he can’t open it. He tries to stand up when he realizes there’s one more element of this scene that doesn’t add up. In front of him lays a greenish snake, looking at him intently.

‘Magic human is strong, he will survive,’ it hisses.

Harry isn’t even surprised anymore.

‘What species are you? And what are you doing here?’

The snake raises its head, expressing as much curiosity as a slightly bigger shoelace can.

‘A speaker?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am a green mamba.’ It bares its fangs.

‘Don’t they live, like, not here?’

‘I was brought here by a traveler. He was also a magic human.’

‘Good for you, I guess.’ Harry braces himself and stands up shakily. Everything hurts but he forces himself to take one step after another.

‘Wait, aren’t you going to take me with you?’ the mamba seems to follow him.

‘I live with Muggles, you won’t like it,’ Harry shrugs and regrets it immediately when pain erupts in his ribs.

‘If they treat you like this, you may need me.’

Harry looks at his bloodstained trousers. There’s nothing he can loose, right? He nods, the snake slithers up his leg and under his shirt. Harry starts the long walk to his house.

He stands in front of a mirror, biting his lip so hard that is bleeds. There’s a cut starting a little above his eyebrow, going through his eyes and ending at his cheek. It’s probably thanks to his magic that he’s not completely blind, although the eye is an array of bloody red and purple veins. The only good aspect of this situation is that the Dursleys have left him, more or less, alone.

The snake is named Callisto, like one of the moons of Jupiter. She likes to coil around his arm, though she says that in a few months, she will be too big for that. Sometimes, when they are in the garden, Callisto mentions a weird smelling dog but Harry disregards her. His eye heals a bit, once again Harry suspects magic. It’s milky white now with a scar cutting it in half. Petunia hates to see him like this so he spends most of his time outside. He sleeps about three hours a day and it has taken a toll on him. He feels empty inside.


	21. In which Aunt Marge floats away and Harry runs away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vienna is very pretty

Harry thinks that nothing could make his holidays worse. He’s wrong, of course. Marge visits the Dursleys and she’s as awful as Harry remembered. She treats him like scum, drinks too much and, really, she’s too petty for a grown woman.

“A school for troubled youth?” Marge makes a perfect circle with her pig-like mouth. “He doesn’t even deserve that, Vernon. Ever since I have seen him for the first time, I have known the boy is nothing but trouble.”

Harry pretends not to hear anything. Living almost his whole life as the only person of colour in an all-white community has taught him to ignore comments worse than this.

“You can see there’s something wrong with him, a bad influence on Dudders...”

Her voice starts to merge with the one he hears in his dreams, Tom Riddle taunting him, Marge accusing of the worst and he’s had enough. He turns toward the woman, green eye blazing, making her shudder. He watches dispassionately as she inflates like a balloon and, despite Vernon’s efforts, flies out of the window. It’s petty but it gives Harry satisfaction. He runs to his room for Callisto and his wand, to the cupboard for his trunk. Vernon tries to stop him but Harry is too angry to let him. In the matter of minutes, he’s walking ahead, leaving his crappy family behind.

“Hi sweetie, are you lost?” Harry whistles quietly at a big black dog.

Callisto emerges from his shirt, ‘This is the dog that smells funny.’

‘Like, is it sick?’ Harry asks, not noticing how the dog bares its teeth.

‘I’m not sure.’

“Sorry, buddy,” Harry turns to the dog again. “If you’re sick than I really can’t play with you. Rabies is not what I need right now.”

What he does need right now is a plan. He runs his hand against his hair. He shaved it this morning but it has already started to regrow. He looks at the sky, Venus is exceptionally bright today. A small smile appears on his face - there’s really only one place he can go.

After a nerve-wracking journey by the Knight bus and two floo calls, Harry finds himself in front of a beautiful gate, the dark metal reflecting moonlight. He touches one of the metal leaves and enters the estate, eternally grateful that Dalia added him to the wards.He walks through the garden, as always marvelling at the blooming flowers. Finally, he reaches the door. It swings open, a house elf immediately taking his trunk.

“Can you lead me to Blaise, please?”

The house elf bows and waddles quickly through corridors. Harry hears faint music that grows louder and louder. They stop in front of the entrance to the ballroom. Harry slowly reaches for the door handle and cracks opens the door, revealing Blaise in an elegant suit, practicing waltz with his mother. They don’t notice him at first, twirling around and the scene is so peaceful, so warm, so unlike anything that Harry has ever experienced that he can’t help a pained gasp that escapes him. They stop abruptly and horror replaces happiness on their faces.

“Hi,” Harry feels like crying but he doesn’t. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Blaise runs to Harry and moves to hug him when Harry flinches away from the touch. Immediately he feels guilty but Blaise only looks at him with so much pain.

“What happened to your eye?” he asks.

Harry smiles bitterly, “I’m not sure. I think I was already unconscious then.”

Blaise clenches his jaw and it makes Harry warm, seeing that someone cares about him so much.

“Even if Merlin himself comes here, you aren’t going back, okay?” Blaise’s voice is gentle.

“Okay.”


	22. In which Harry is going back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter was much longer?? I don't know what happened?
> 
> also the quotes are from some old romance movies pls don't sue me

Harry has always been thinner, more wild at the beginning of the school year, however this time it’s different. His friends see that something has irreparably changed. He has never smiled much but when he did, it was honest and full of light. Now his smiles are always bitter and insincere, leaving coldness behind. The first thing people used to notice in this unassuming boy were his eyes, vibrant with energy. Now they only notice one eye, hauntingly colourless, hauntingly empty. Harry has never flaunted his ability to talk to snakes, trying to fit in this new world. Now he spends hours with Callisto coiled around his neck, unapologetically hissing back and forth.

Something has irreparably changed and Harry’s friends know who to blame. There are a few critical points in this story, moments in which it can go differently. It is one of these moments, when Harry's friends decide that they choose Harry. Because he is one of them, because they see that no one else cares enough about this lonely boy, no one else but them. And people can say what they want about Slytherins, how they are two-faced egoists but, by Merlin, they are loyal to the bone. 

This is a crucial point in this story because Harry is only twelve and already too close to breaking. 

There’s one thing that hasn’t changed and it’s how amazed Harry looks when someone celebrates his birthday. The boy who has already defeated Voldemort thrice, doesn’t know what to do when faced with a cake. (It’s lemon, his favorite.)

“Make a wish! Make a wish!” Millie and Ron chant together, all the sugary pastries eaten before making them buzz with energy.

Harry doesn’t have any wishes but he tries to force a smile on his face. He looks up and catches Blaise looking at him; Harry wants to think it’s the same gaze he has sometimes seen in movies played in the library. _This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Do you believe in happiness? All you have to do is ask me. I'll be insane about you._ Harry closes his eyes and blows out the candles.

“Harry, can I talk to you?” the redhead man seems a bit nervous. “I’m aware we don’t know each other that well but you saved Ginny, and for that we will always be grateful.”

“Yes, Mr Weasley?” Harry forces a polite smile on his face. He seems to be doing that a lot, lately.

“Have you heard about Sirius Black?”

Harry nods.

“He is a dangerous man and there are rumours he may want to come to Hogwarts. Do you know why?”

“Knowing my luck and how the previous years in school looked like, he wants to kill me,” states Harry, calmly observing how unnerved Arthur is by him talking about death so casually.

“Er, yes. Harry, I want you to promise not to look for Black.”

“I can take care of myself. Sir.” Again, Harry forces his face into something resembling a smile and enters the Hogwarts Express. He's going back home. 


	23. In which Dementors make an appearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aanaand we're off to the third year

They have been traveling for an hour, the chatter and his fatigue making Harry drift asleep, when there’s a screech and the train stops. He wakes up, sensing danger.

“There’s something wrong,” his voice, rarely heard these days, catches everyone’s attention.

“Do you, uh, feel cold?” Tracey shivers in her seat.

Frost covers the windows. Harry feels weirdly numb. He looks at Blaise who looks a bit uneasy. The doors open, a terrible, rotten hand on the handle and Harry’s no longer there. There’s a green flash, Tom Riddle winking at him, _Take him and run!_ , a woman screaming, Vernon unbuckling his belt, green green green-

A shining shape appears in the middle of the compartment and it’s over.

Harry opens his eyes, that he has shut tightly, to Blaise kneeling beside him, his hands on both sides of Harry’s head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “it’s okay.”

“Here, eat this.” An unknown man reaches to Harry, a piece of chocolate in his scarred hand.

Harry eyes him distrustfully but before he can do anything, Blaise takes a bite out of the bar and handles it to Harry, nodding slightly. Harry allows himself to relax just a bit, the rich chocolate melting on his tongue.

“What’s happened?” Harry asks no one in particular but he doesn’t expect the man to answer.

“These were dementors. The Ministry is looking for Sirius Black. I will check on other students. Eat more chocolate, all of you.”

The man leaves and Harry scoffs slightly, “I guess we can’t have a normal school year, huh?”

“Hermione, dearest,” Harry takes a place in her carriage, ignoring outraged looks from some of the Gryffindors. He shakes hands with Ron and turns his injured eye on them, what makes the others back of a little.

“What do you know about dementors?”

“Oh, goodness, did you feel them as well?” the girl is visibly agitated. “They guard the Azkaban, which, I guess you know that. They have the ability to suck all the happy memories that you have, leaving you with only your worst nightmares. In the Wizarding world, they are considered one of the foulest creatures.”

Harry looks at her, calculating, turning the piece of information in his head. He has a new goal for this school year.

He bumps into Ginny when she’s walking with a group of friends. Last year, the girls giggled when he saw him, now they look at his scar and his snake, and scatter away.

“You’re tanned,” he says instead of a greeting.

“We’ve been in Egypt.”

“How do you feel?”

Harry sees the mask she tries to put on.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says. “I know I’m not okay. I can’t imagine how you are feeling.”

Ginny looks at him, the only girl in the family who has always tried to prove she’s tough. She looks at him, the boy who didn’t have any other choice but to build an armour around his soul. She looks at him and crumbles in herself.

After that, they spend more time together. Sometimes they walk, not saying a word. Sometimes he lets Ginny cry, mumbling words under her breath. It’s tiring, mentally exhausting but it helps. The nightmares are a bit less frequent. A spark of life returns to Ginny’s eyes.

Yet, there’s a downside, too, that Harry doesn't really understand.

“Where were you?” Blaise asks when Harry comes back to the Common Room, just before the curfew.

“I was with Gin.” This evening was difficult and Harry feels like shit.

“I see.”

“What’s going on, Blaise?”

“Nothing. Glad you had good time.”

Blaise closes the curtains around his bed, leaving Harry confused.


	24. In which Harry learns about boggarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im moving out of my house next week im stressed 
> 
> also - I have this vision of harry going to the yule ball in a suit? but he doesn't like muggles so it doesn't really make sense? but its the vibeTM? - so pls comment what you think about that I will be very happy

“ _Riddikulus!_ “ says a chorus of voices.

“Very good, everyone. Now, you will each face the boggart. Remember to think about something funny before starting.”

Professor Lupin, who, as Harry has noticed, has a bit of a flair for dramatics, opens the chest containing the boggart. Longbottom steps in front of it, his hand shaking slightly. For a moment nothing happens but then out of the chest steps-

“Snape?” Draco chokes out, more attentive at DADA than ever.

There’s a snap and Snape is wearing a long, emerald green robe, and a deep purple hat with some kind of a bird sitting on it. Harry can’t help but snort; then he can’t help but think how fucked up it is that a student’s greatest fear is his teacher.

 _Snap!_ Ron faces a giant spider. _Snap!_ the Gryffindor Patil twin pales upon seeing a mummy. _Snap!_ a dirty-blonde girl who Harry doesn’t recognise steps in front of a cobra. The lesson continues, the queue of Gryffindors getting smaller and smaller, and all Harry can think of is how they can be afraid of such things. He tries really hard not to be condescending, but he can’t shake off the feeling that his fellow Slytherins’ nightmares don’t feature zombies or clowns, or rats. The conviction only deepens when Pansy speaks through gritted teeth, “No offense, Professor, but you can’t expect me to show my greatest fear in front of everyone.”

Lupin looks uncomfortable for a moment, then - Harry doesn’t understand this - looks him directly in the eyes and nods slowly.

“I guess I can’t force you to do anything.” Lupin turns towards the boggart which becomes a silvery orb and disappears back in the chest.

“Still, I can’t not teach you this spell, so all of you, individually if you want, will come to my office and practice it.”

“Dear lord, what is that, Hermione?”

“That is my cat,” she sniffs. “His name is Crookshanks.”

“It’s not a cat, it’s a monstrosity,” Ron flops down on the couch next to Hermione.

They are in the Gryffindor Common Room, their fellow students becoming more or less used to seeing Harry there.

“Crookshanks is a perfectly behaved cat, thank you very much.”

“He tried to eat Scabbers!”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Yeah, he did!”

Harry sinks down deeper into the comfortable chair, the banter a background to his dreams.

“Come in, Harry, come in,” Lupin welcomes him with a warm smile.

There’s something about the man that sets Harry on edge, he doesn’t understand why he cares so much about students, about Harry. Something tells Harry to be careful.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you, sir.”

Lupin looks a bit discouraged for a second but then the smile returns on his face.

“I will release the boggart and we will see how it goes.”

Harry nods, a little nervous.

The chest opens, black mist coils around it and out of it flies a dementor. Harry tries to fight it but there’s nothing funny about listening to your mother die — because he has realised, that’s what the green light is — there’s nothing funny about being reminded of your family abusing you, there’s nothing funny about Voldemort living on the back of your teacher’s head, there’s nothing funny about Tom Riddle making promises-

They sit in uncomfortable silence until Lupin clears his throat, “I can teach you a spell used against dementors.”

“Why?”

“W-why?” Lupin seems baffled. “Because I’m your teacher.”

Harry looks at him and he knows there’s something that the man isn’t telling him. But he’s a good teacher and it will be easier than learning it by himself, so he nods.

“Dementors thrive on unhappiness. In order to fight with them, you have to find the opposite - your best, happiest memory.”

Harry isn’t sure he has many happy memories but he’s not about to tell it to Lupin so he doesn’t say anything.

“The spell is _Expecto Patronum_.”

“ _Expecto Patronum,_ “ he repeats.

“Exactly, Harry. I will show you the effect,” Lupin stands up and light erupts from his wand. It forms into a silvery wolf that circles the room, awing Harry with the way it shines. The wolf dissolves, Lupin goes back to the chest, resting his hand on it.

“Are you ready?”

Harry nods, determined to master the spell.


	25. In which Harry receives a magic map and magic sweets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in France now huh

“Hogsmeade?” Harry slowly turns towards Tracey.

“Oh no, I’m so inconsiderate, forget I’ve said anything,” she bites her lip nervously.

“Trixie, it’s literally fine. I don’t want you to loose the fun because of me. Go, and bring me some chocolate, huh?” he smiles but it’s not a very happy smile.

“Trixie?” she giggles, despite still feeling bad. It makes Harry’s smile more sincere as well, because it’s just Tracey’s superpower.

“It’s cute, don’t you think?”

Tracey nods and Harry leans towards her conspiratorially.

“I’ve heard that Hannah Abbott has an eye on you,” he says with a wink.

His friend blushes and with one last smile leaves him alone. Harry slumps a bit, the happy mask he's been wearing around his friends becomes less perfect. He watches the rest of Slytherins leave bundled in layers of cloaks and scarves, when one person catches his attention. Blaise is with a girl who’s not exactly pretty but has something interesting about her - _Lisa Turpin?_ Harry thinks is her name. She laughs at something Blaise has said. Harry feels a bitter taste on his tongue and a hollowness in his chest.

“Harry-“

“-Potter, our little Saviour-“

“-Hero of the Wizarding World!”

Harry looks at the twins, their way of talking giving him a bit of a whiplash.

“Hi, what do you want?”

“We want to give you-“

“-the secret to our success-“

“-something that has helped us through the years-“

“-made us the Prankmasters Extraordinaires.”

Harry has to admit that their ability to convey capital letters through speech is admirable. He watches as one of the twins takes a piece of parchment out of his pocket. The redhead unfolds it with a flourish and presents to Harry. Nothing happens but Harry knows that if the twins say something is important, then it is.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Harry watches as intricate lines appear on the paper, then little dots, then-

“Woah. Nice.”

“Freaking amazing is what it is,” the twins say unison. “It shows the position of all people in Hogwarts, all the secret passages, everything. We have it memorised so we are giving it to you.”

“Why me?” Harry is weirdly touched.

“Harry,” they become more serious. “You saved our sister. It’s the least we can do for you. If someone is coming, just say ‘Mischief managed’.”

He looks up from the map and decides to use a trick Ginny has taught him.

“Fred,” he looks at the twin on the left, “George,” the one on the right. “Thanks, guys.”

They look at each other, a bit surprised, and grin broadly.

“Always a pleasure.”

‘It looked like you, just much bigger and, you know, kind of glow-y?’ Harry scratches Callisto on the head.

‘It must be very powerful then,” the snake hisses sleepily. The winter is becoming colder and Callisto sleeps for longer periods of time.

‘Of course,’ Harry looks at his pet fondly.

He is spread in a burgundy armchair near the fireplace, ignoring curious looks some of the Slytherins still send his way. Dumbledore tried to take Callisto away from Harry but stepped back when he pointed out a dozen “illegal” pets kept by other students, a big group of them Gryffindors.

Harry recounts how he has finally managed to produce a corporeal Patronus. It was tiring and his head hurt a lot but the satisfaction, and the look on Lupin’s face when a giant cobra sprung from Harry’s wand, were worth it.

The door to the Common Room open and a bunch of students enter, their cheeks rosy from the cold, trinkets bought in Hogsmeade in their hands.

“Hiya, Harry,” Pansy flops-, well, she does the aristocrat version of flopping which is very graceful- by his side. “Here, I bought you sugar quills so you won’t be sad.”

Harry snorts a little and takes them from her hand. “Thank you, Pans. I appreciate it.”

Pansy launches into description of beautiful lavender robes she has seen in one of the shops, _I have always liked all hues of purple because it really suits my name, don’t you think?_

Harry listens to her in amusement, when the door opens once again.

Blaise enters, a large smile on his face. Harry’s own drops.

“Oh, honey,” Pansy sighs besides him.


	26. In which Harry has to deal with Divination, Millicent and children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adore Luna 
> 
> comment pls what you like what you don't like

“Oh Merlin, Morgana and anyone else who can save me.”

“It’s not that bad, Harry.”

“Oh, Merlin, Millie. I can’t take it anymore.”

Harry looks at the trapdoor leading to the Divination classroom, a mixture of trepidation and absolute boredom on his face. If there’s something Harry doesn’t like (of course there are many such things), it’s wasting time. And that is what’s he’s been doing during every Divination lesson he has ever attended.

He wants to continue his wallowing when Millie casts a _Silencio_ on him. He casts a silent counter charm, it’s one of those he has mastered, and turns to her.

“That’s just mean, Millicent,” Harry sniffs with faux-disdain. “I’m sitting with Ron.”

“Uhhh, well, you are going to hurt a lot. But, huh, you are going to be happy about it?” Ron modulates the sentence, making it more of a question than a statement.

Harry can feel his braincells dying but he reaches for Ron’s cup.

“You are going to have two children. And a, um, a goat? I think it’s a goat. Or not, it may be a horse-“ he’s cut off by a gasp.

A thin hand with long fingers adorned by heavy rings reaches for Harry’s cup and he makes himself not flinch.

“It’s a…,” Trelawney looks terrified which is not very unusual. “It’s a Grim, my dear boy.”

Another gasp comes from two Gryffindor girls sitting by the table next to them.

“It’s a _what_?” Harry looks at her incredulously.

“Grims are the symbol of death.”

“Really?” Harry cocks his head to look at the cup more carefully. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw this dog this summer.”

"Mate, I know it’s a lot of hogwash, but you _did_ see something resembling a Grim,” Ron says, concern colouring his voice.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, it’s not like it attacked me or anything, right?”

“Still, it could have been dangerous,” Ron argues.

Before Harry can answer, a voice that reminds him of a thousand little bells in the wind interrupts them, “Grims aren’t dangerous. Not to you, Harry Potter.”

Behind him - and how did she manage to sneak without him noticing? - stands a girl. Everything about her seems delicate, her thin wrists, long pale hair, pale blue eyes that are looking slightly above his head.

“Sorry, who are you?” he asks because he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen this girl before.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she states simply as if that explains everything about her.

“Well, nice to meet you Luna.” Harry smiles with amusement and walks away, the girl’s words falling out of his head. In some time, he will be painfully reminded of them but it’s not the right moment yet.

Harry is in the middle of losing a game of chess to Blaise when Gemma barges into the Common Room.

“Listen to me, gather in your age groups and do a count-down. I need to know that everyone is here.” She looks around, projecting calmness, but Harry can see she's nervous from the way her eyes do a quick scan of the room.

Harry walks up to her amid the mild chaos of people trying to find their friends.

“What’s happening?”

Gemma swirls around and, what actually makes Harry feel pretty good about himself, seems to relax a bit when she sees him.

“There’s an emergency and we all need to go to the Great Hall. Harry, do me a favour and check if all firsties are here, okay? I need to check the rooms.”

He nods and goes over to a group of kids, who still look at him with an equal amount of worship and fright in their eyes. He wonders which scar makes bigger impression.

“Excuse me, mister, are we going to die?” a sweet little girl with her hair in pigtails looks at him with big eyes.

Harry doesn’t particularly like kids but he remembers all those times he asked himself more or less the same question. Also, having the younger years listen to him might be useful in the future. 

“Of course not, there’s nothing to worry about. We are going to have a big sleepover with all the other houses, alright? And tonight, you can call me Harry.”

A few of the kids nod so Harry decides his job is done. He turns to walk away when a small hand tugs on his robe.

“Mister Harry, can you show us your snake, please?”

He looks at the boy a bit speechless, when he hears a laugh coming from behind him.

“Mille, you are on thin ice.”


	27. In which Harry eavesdrops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh kinda a filler chapter I guess

They lay in extremely purple sleeping bags. Harry tries to fall asleep but for eleven years he has slept alone so even his dorms are too loud for him. Now the sounds of all the Hogwarts population breathing and turning, and snoring are driving him insane. He’s still playing out the conversation with Ron in his head.

_If Sirius Black is after me, as some people think, why would he go to the Gryffindor Tower? Surely, he must have heard about the sensation of Harry Potter being placed in Slytherin._

Harry turns on the left side.

_Although, after twelve years in Azkaban, maybe his cognitive skills are not that good._

He’s about to roll back on the right side when he realises that Dumbledore and Snape are nearing him.

“Should Potter be warned?” Snape’s velvety voice sounds unusually concerned.

Harry’s blood runs cold.

He tracks the dots adorned with his professors’ names. He sees ‘Minerva McGonagall’ meet ‘Pomona Sprout’ by the front entrance. ‘Severus Snape’ leaves through the secret passage. ‘Rubeus Hagrid’ uses a shortcut. Harry knows that there is a teachers’ meeting in Hogsmeade and, by God, he is going there and he is going to find out what is happening.

The tunnel is dirty and uncomfortable to use but Harry nearly doesn’t notice it. There’s determination coursing through his veins and he’s not letting anything interrupt him. Finally, he reaches Honeydukes; he’s pretty sure Dudley would have peed himself if he saw the amount of sweets gathered in one place.

He’s about to leave the shop when he sees Tracey.

“Psst, Trixie,” he whispers from underneath the cloak.

Tracey freezes mid-lick, her tongue glued to a green-and-blue lollipop. “Harry?”

“I’m wearing the cloak. I’m going to eavesdrop on professors, I think something weird’s going on. Wanna come?”

The girl smacks her greenish-coloured lips together and grins.

They snatch Pansy and Blaise on their way to the Three Broomsticks, and they are now sitting in a secluded booth.

“Soooo,” Pansy drags out the word. “Anyone care to enlighten me, what are we doing here? I had eyes on this cute Hufflepuff boy.” She pouts slightly.

Tracey leans in, “Harry wants to eavesdrop on the teachers.”

“Harry is here?” asks Blaise.

“Yup,” Tracey pops the ‘p’, while Pansy smirks.

“The idiot is going to get caught.”

“Thanks Blaise, your trust is really touching,” a whisper comes from Tracey’s direction. “Wait here for me.”

In the last second, Harry manages to sneak into the room. Flitwick closes the door with his wand and puts up a ward, which makes Harry grateful for his decision to follow them inside.

“I can’t believe Black managed to break into the castle,” says McGonagall, agitation making her Scottish accent thicker than ever.

“It wouldn’t have happened if Longbottom didn’t leave the passwords laying around,” Snape murmurs, pleasant as always.

Before a quarrel can escalate, Hagrid blows his nose on a handkerchief, hard.

“I- I c- c- can’t believe ‘e w- would ‘av try to h- hurt Herry. Afte’ all ‘e ‘as done,” he shakes his head.

“I must say, I’m a tad confused,” says a woman Harry hasn’t noticed before. She has blonde curls and a figure many would have killed for.

“During the war, James and Lily had to go into hiding,” starts McGonagall. “The only person who knew where they were - maybe aside Albus, that is - was Sirius Black. He was their Secret Keeper, like a brother to James. He revealed to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named their location.”

There’s something building up in Harry, a gut-wrenching hate, a blood-boiling fury.

“What’s more,” a man in a suit pours himself a glass of Firewhiskey. “He killed their friend, Peter Pettigrew.” The man holds up his hand in a fist with only the pinky extended. “One finger. That’s what was left of Pettigrew and thirteen Muggles.”

There’s a fire in Harry’s chest, he’s almost shaking now.

“The worst thing is that Black was, and still is, Harry Potter’s godfather.”

“Harry, wait!”

“Stop, Merlin’s pants, what are you doing?!”

“Wait for us!”

He’s aware that Blaise, Pansy and Tracey are running after him but he doesn’t care. He reaches a secluded spot just outside of Hogsmeade before taking out his wand and blasting trees around him.

“Expeliarmus!” his wand flies out of his hand.

He swirls around and lunges on Blaise, trying to get the wand out of the other boy’s grip. “Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me.”

Harry feels Blaise embrace him and he trashes around until he feels like he has no strength in him anymore. He stumbles away.

“What happened, Harry?” Blaise asks, his voice gentle.

“Sirius Black is the reason my parents are dead. He is the reason I’m an orphan. He is the reason why I spent eleven years in that fucking hell hole.” Harry says, his voice completely normal which somehow makes it even worse. He ignores the horrified looks on Pansy’s and Blaise’s faces, the tears streaming down Tracey’s cheeks. Harry doesn’t know it but it’s the first time his friends are actually afraid of him.

A weird smile appears on Harry’s face and he starts laughing, a terrible, hollow laugh that doesn’t sound human.

“And you know what? He was my father’s best friend. He is my godfather.”

The laugh ends as abruptly as it started.

“If I ever meet Black, I’m going to kill him.”


	28. In which Harry hates Valentines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a short one but uni life's been absolutely hectic - hope you can forgive me :c
> 
> leave comments! please!

His friends walk around him on eggshells. It’s annoying and, frankly, unnecessary. Still, Harry doesn’t really know what to do about is so he resigns himself to uncomfortable conversations with people and comfortable conversations with Callisto, which take his mind off of _things_.

‘You should.’

‘I don’t think I should.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you think because I’m right.’

Harry looks at his snake with mock outrage, ‘You have to stop spending so much time with Pansy. Or Draco. The sass is completely unnecessary.’

‘I just know that if it’s a day when you’re supposed to celebrate love, then you should get Blaise something nice. Like a really big mouse.’

Harry snorts and lets Callisto wrap herself around his neck.

‘I really like your advice, sweetie.’

All thoughts concerning Valentine’s day disappear from Harry’s mind when he sees Hermione. She looks alarmed and when Hermione is alarmed, something is really wrong.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Ron thinks Crookshanks ate Scabbers.” She rolls her eyes to indicate how ridiculous the idea is. Admittedly, this is now what Harry has expected from her looks.

“Scabbers disappeared?”

“Not only that, he was looking quite sickly recently. Ron thinks Crookshanks was a cause of stress and anxiety.”

Harry nods pensively, trying to decide what to do with that information when Hermione lets out a loud sigh.

“Professor Lupin is a werewolf,” she blurts.

“Huh.”

Harry knows how the Wizarding world can be - he has experienced it on his own - so he doesn’t tell anyone about Lupin. He feels a bit bad about not saying anything to his friends but the walls have ears and Lupin is a decent enough teacher for Harry to not want him to be fired.

Possibly for the first time in three years, Harry seems to be in an agreement with Snape. He doesn’t understand how but the Valentine’s enchantments done last year by Lockhart reappear this year which is all sorts of horrifying. There are dwarfs with little wings who follow students, surprisingly fast on their short stubby legs. There are hearts falling from the ceiling, coating the breakfast table in all shades of pink. Snape walks by their table, wand creating a constant stream of a yellow spell which destroys the hearts. Harry wishes he knew the spell.

“Harry Potter!” a booming voice shouts into his ear, which makes Harry tense up until he realises it’s only one of the dwarfs. He tries to slide under the table but Pansy - laughing way too hard - prevents it. The dwarf swings his bag and suddenly Harry is covered in glitter and more confetti. On his lap lay a few paper cards - apparently there are people in Hogwarts who are attracted to the idea of a ‘bad boy’. Harry sighs heavily.

Harry returns to the Common Room late. He managed to stay in class until the second period: the constant explosions of confetti, shouting dwarfs and one attempt at an unexpected hug set him on edge. He spent the rest of his day in an abandoned classroom, practicing _Expecto patronum_ and writing his essays. He almost managed to forget about what he had decided to do. He walks into his bedroom and reaches under his bed for a parcel. He walks to the bed nearest to the bathroom and after some nervous pacing, leaves the package.


	29. In which Luna finds Harry, Lupin finds Harry, and then finally Blaise finds Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies!!
> 
> please comment any thoughts - I don't have any motivation at all for writing and your comments are the only thing that helps :(((
> 
> also I'm interested where are you from guys? (I hope someone answers its or else its going to be really embarrassing)

Blaise doesn’t talk to him the next day or the day after, or the one after that. Harry feels miserable, he spends most of his free time curled in bed with Callisto, looking at the Marauder’s Map. It’s calming, watching little dots travel around Hogwarts. He sees a pair of footprints labeled 'Blaise Zabini' heading towards the Common Room and decides he can’t take the silence anymore. It’s near curfew but he simply drapes the Invisibility Cloak over himself and leaves.

He walks around a bit when something catches his attention. The name rings in his memory, a man in suit holding his hand up, _one finger_ , Harry’s running, he turns the corner-

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Lupin looks at him curiously.

“I’m- I, there was-“ he realises he doesn’t know what to say.

“Come with me.”

Lupin’s office is cozy, even in the middle of the night. The fire shines brightly, giving the man a bit of a haunted look, his scars shining in the light. Harry thinks his own must look the same.

“You shouldn’t be walking around at night,” Lupin looks at him sternly.

“Yes, sir.” Harry nods, his face composed into perfect politeness. “This will not happen again.”

“Harry, I’m not saying that because I’m a teacher and you are breaking curfew, it’s not about docking points. I’m saying that because your parents gave their lives for you and you are endangering ourself. You are throwing away their sacrifice.”

Remus will later remember how Harry didn’t react when hearing about his parents’ death, only tilted his head in an unnerving way, his face completely blank.

“I don’t think that wandering at night in Hogwarts is any more dangerous than it is during the day. Not from my experience, at least.”

“Still, I will have to take this map away.”

“I understand,” Harry raises from his seat and walks to the door. He hesitates but turns to look back at Lupin.

“I’m not sure the map is working correctly, sir. It showed me someone who’s dead.”

It’s been four days since Valentines and still no reaction. Harry thinks it may be worse than rejection because at least he would know what he’s standing on. But the silence? The silence eats him from the inside, clawing at his heart, the armour that he has so foolishly lowered, strengthening once more. He resents himself for trusting. He can’t believe that after he has experienced disappointment and hurt, time after time, he still hopes for something else, something _more._

The pent up frustration and the need to release his anger is how he finds himself practicing wandless magic in an abandoned classroom. He’s getting better at it, the spells stronger and more precise. He conjures water streaming out of his finger which separates into two streams and then two more, and then an intricate web of water stretches between his palms - at least, if he can’t be happy in this world either, he will be powerful in it. He looks at it shimmering, reflecting the light from the torches, when there’s a sound behind him. Before he knows it, he’s swirling around, sending the water towards the person. It turns into ice mid-air - at the last second, he realises it’s only the blonde girl he’s met a few days ago, and he turns the water back into ice. Being wet is better than being impaled by an ice rode.

She takes it calmly, not even flinching at his attack. “You should practice with fire, Harry Potter. It may be your element as well.”

He dries her with a wave of his wand (the air-based spells have always been tricky for him) and cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you know you have a lot of Jigglybugs?”

"Pardon?”

“Jigglybugs,” she repeats airily. “You have to watch out for an infestation - it can be beautiful and very hurtful at the same time.”

He blinks once, twice. Either this girl is bat-shit crazy or absolutely brilliant, and something is telling Harry that the latter is the truth. “What did you say your name was?”

“Luna, Luna Lovegood. Although many people call me Loony.” She says it without any anger or sadness, as if it doesn’t bother her at all.

Harry narrows his eyes - he really doesn’t like bullies. “I hope I will see you around, Luna.”

She smiles brightly at the use of her first name and Harry feels just a tiny bit better.

The evening air the next day is sharp in its coldness. It claims every part of Harry’s body, every centimetre of his lungs, leaving him pleasantly numb. The silence is interrupted by the sound of hurried steps.

“Hi.”

Harry’s only response is a slightly raised eyebrow.

Blaise licks his lips in an unusual show of nervousness and reaches out his hand towards Harry. A silver pendant gleams in the winter sun.

“Is it from you?” He asks quietly.

“And if it is?” A question for a question.

“I would be happy then,” Blaise smiles but Harry’s hurt and he won’t accept it that easily.

“You didn’t say a word to me for what, five days? What the fuck, Blaise?” But before Blaise can answer, they are interrupted by a muttering Hermione who seems to be caring something.

“Oh,” she looks at them startled. “ _Oh,_ ” she repeats and maybe what they say about female intuition is true because Hermione looks like she understands what’s going on. “Sorry, I found Ron’s rat but he keeps bitting me.”

She smiles a bit awkwardly and starts walking again when something catches her attention. Her dark skin pales and Harry automatically turns around, his wand already drawn but the dog is faster. It leaps between them, straight at Hermione who scrambles away but it’s too late. The great black mass of fur drags her by her leg towards the Whoomping Willow and in the matter of seconds, they’re gone.


	30. In which the truth is out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Ive ever written more dialogue in my life - I hope its not terrible
> 
> have a good day/evening/night babes

“What was that?!” Blaise face shows the distress Harry is feeling.

“I guess this year was too normal, eh?”

They look at each other for a second, both knowing that the reasonable thing would be going to the castle for help, both knowing that they won't leave the other alone. They turn towards the tree. 

Harry tries to jump in-between the swinging branches of the Whoomping Willow but he doesn’t make it in time and the next thing he knows, he’s flying backwards, struck by a branch in the stomach. It feels a bit like Dudley’s punch.

“Harry!” Blaise shouts, alarmed, and he knows he has to move. 

His survival instinct kicks in and Harry dodges, rolls on the ground and throws himself towards the tree. He lands uncomfortably on a root sticking out of the earth and the willow stops moving.

Blaise looks at him in disbelief, “The amount of dumb luck, Morgana’s tits.”

They squeeze through a narrow tunnel and find themselves inside of a shell of a house. There’s dirt and dust everywhere, the floorboards creek under their weight.They slowly creep forward, wands ready until they reach a room where Hermione is sitting on a bed, clutching at her leg. Harry motions to Blaise to take care of it while he continues surveying the surroundings, and it all would have been much better if Blaise didn't stumble on an uneven floorboard, starling Harry-

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Harry's wand flies out of his hand.

There’s a man standing in the doorway, long streaks of dirty hair hanging in his face. His eyes convey something unhinged, his skin is sickly grey and yet, despite all that, Harry can see the type of pureblood quality he has started to associate with people like Draco. He knows exactly who's standing in front of him. 

“We meet at last, _godfather,_ ” he spats the last word with as much acid as he can muster.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you Harry,” Black looks at him, eyes watery and _how dare he talk as if he cares about Harry, as if he cares about what happens to him_.

Harry doesn’t have his wand but he’s well reversed in the Muggle way of fighting, certainly much better than this man who has spent the last twelve years of his life around Dementors. He lunges at Black, fists flying, perfectly executed punches, hands tightening around his throat and he thinks he's really going to kill Black when a force throws him across the room.

“Well, well, Sirius, looking rather rugged, aren’t we?” Lupin walks in, his wand trained on Black.

The fugitive just smiles at him, all rotten teeth and crazy eyes, and suddenly the two men are hugging each other, not a manly sort of hug with clapping on the back, but something softer which makes it so much worse to watch.

“I can’t believe I trusted you, all this time!” Hermione finally speaks, looking at Lupin, her voice agitated. “I haven’t told anyone! Except Harry, that is.”

“Tell what?” Blaise looks confused between them.

 _Well, shit,_ thinks Harry. “Lupin’s a werewolf, that’s why he’s been missing classes,” he says out loud.

“What matters,” Hermione returns to her tirade, “is that you are his friend!” She points an accusing finger at Black. Harry has to admire her ability of portraying McGonagall so well. 

“Enough of the chitchat.” There’s wilderness in Black’s movements and Harry feels, more than anything, Blaise inching towards him. “We need to kill him.”

“Harry needs to know why, Sirius,” Lupin says softly. 

Harry feels like he knows why, but he also feels like something’s not right here so he doesn’t say anything.

“Sirius was accused of betraying your parents, however it wasn’t him."

“Who was it, then?” Hermione sounds like she’s also questioning what is happening.

“Peter Pettigrew!” Black’s voice resembles a dog’s growl.

Harry doesn’t understand but then he thinks of tiny footprints labelled with the name of a dead man, “So he’s alive?” He asks quietly.

“More, he’s in this room, right now!” Black laughs crazily and points at Hermione.

“ _What?_ ” the three of them ask incredulously at the same time.

“Not her, the rat she’s holding, Scabbers.”

Hermione shakes her head frantically, “Scabbers has been in Ron’s family for-“

“Twelve years!” Black interrupts here. “A surprisingly long time for a rat. He’s missing a toe, ain’t he?”

Blaise and Hermione still looks confused but Harry remembers what he has heard and with a sort of dazedness he realises how important what’s happening is.

“Only a finger was found left of Pettigrew,” he says.

“All those years, I thought Sirius was guilty but your remark, Harry, it led me to changing my mind. Because the Map never lies so if you see a dead person, it means they aren’t dead after all. Now, Hermione, give me the rat,” Lupin reaches towards her.

Hermione looks at Harry and ever-so-slowly, he nods.

The rat starts running towards a hole in the wall, blue light flashes from Black’s wand and in the place of the animal lays a man. He is one of the ugliest persons Harry has ever met, short, obese, with whimsy hair and watery eyes.

“S-s-sirius, R-remus, my friends!”


	31. In which Harry earns a life debt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im such a dumbass I was sure I posted last week??????
> 
> comment your thoughts plsss
> 
> also a reminder for today: women rights are human rights & abortion is a human right :)

The thing is, deep in his heart, behind all the layers of coldness and distrust, and hardiness, there’s a part of Harry - a small kid sitting in the cupboard - that wants to have a family. That looks age his friends exchanging letters with their parents and thinks how it feels to have someone who cares for you. 

And when the part of Harry that dreams about a family is hidden, as it usually is, he has his smarts, the survival instinct developed over his short but eventful life. And he knows that even if he doesn't trust Black, he doesn’t understand why the man went after Pettigrew before taking care of him, he does want to escape Dursleys in any way he can. His mind is walking a mile an hour, trying to look at the situation from all possible perspectives and almost subconsciously - he still has to keep an eye on what's happening - he reaches a conclusion. If Black gets pardoned and if Harry can convince him to take over his custody, it wouldn't be intelligent of Black to abuse Harry, considering the scrutiny he would have to deal with. 

So when Snape barges in, wand drawn, drawling about getting revenge, Harry steps up, “I swear to God, sir, I will not let your- whatever your thing is, I will not let it get in the way of me with the only family member that I have.”

What Harry doesn’t know is that at this moment, Snape sees himself in Harry, a toughened-up kid who doesn’t want to admit that not all of the problems can be solved by a thirteen year old. He looks in Potter’s eyes, the emerald green reminding him of Lily (he tries not to think about the other, milky-white one) and steps back.

“And you two,” Harry points at Lupin and Black, “you won’t kill him.”

“Oh, Harry, you’re such a good boy, such a good boy,” Pettigrew is on his knees, shifting towards Harry.

“If you ever, ever speak to me again, I will break your little rat neck, okay?” Harry hisses, ignoring the way the two men look at him. “So what I was saying? Ah, yes, you won’t kill him because it would mean that the minute you broke free from the Azkaban, you did the exact crime you were accused of. And that’s really fucking stupid.”

Blaise snorts in the corner. “We can take him to the castle, then, talk to-“ here he pauses to think about an adult who will help them, “-I don’t _know_ , somebody.”

They walk outside only to be met by the gleaming roundness of the moon. Lupin stops dead in his track only to turn towards them with panicked eyes, “Run to the castle, _now!_ ”

It’s the only thing he manages to say before he stiffens and his muscles grow, and he is no longer human. Snape - it comes as a surprise - steps between the three of them and the werewolf. Black morphs into a big black dog and all they can do is watch the two creatures chase each other. Harry wants to do something but he also cares more about his own life than about Black’s so he stands in place, that is until Pettigrew transforms into his rat form and he’s running away. There’s no way Harry will allow that to happen so before anyone can react, he’s running as well, a string of spells on his lips and distant shouts in his ears. He tries his best but it's not easy, hitting a rat running among the grass at night, and he thinks he's lost.

He tumbles into a clearing with a lake, his breath coming in short puffs. He can't see Pettigrew anymore, he can't believe that the man has run away. He's so miserable because he'll never escape Dursleys, because Tom Riddle's eyes burn in his head, because _God, why is he so cold?_ He turns towards the lake and only now realises that Black is laying on the other side of it, a swarm of Dementors coming closer. 

Harry tries to think about positive memories, about lemon cake and warm hugs, but he can't help the flashes of pain, the sound of a belt buckle being unclasped, the green light-

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_

He’s falling into the darkness.


	32. In which Harry meets the Minister of Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my internet didn't work for two days! I had to steal it from other people!
> 
> I should warn you that I doubt have as much time for writing as I would have liked so I may post less regularly :(

Waking up in the Hospital Wing seems to be a common theme in Harry’s life. Waking up to Dumbledore seating by his bed is not that weird either. What’s different this time is a pair of Aurors who walk in a few minutes after he wakes up.

“Albus, Mister Potter,” the dark-skinned one nods and looks directly at Harry. “I’m Kingsley Shacklebot and this is Nymphadora Tonks.”

The gangly girl with bright pink pixie scrunches her nose, “Just Tonks, please.”

The door opens for the second time and a stout man with lime green bowler hat enters.

“Kingsley, I hope you didn’t start without me,” he says like he can’t decide between joviality, nervousness and discontent.

“Of course not, Minister.”

 _This is the Minister of Magic?_ Harry thinks with disbelief. And distaste. A lot of it.

There is a round of pleasantries and everyone settles down, looking at each other expectantly.

“Now, Harry, if I may I call you that,” Fudge doesn’t even stop to wait for an answer, “some nonsensical news reached me about Sirius Black being innocent. Apparently it’s confirmed by Muggleborn and the Zabini heir.” He looks as if he doesn’t know which of the witnesses is less believable.

“That would be Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini, sir,” Harry’s tone is perfectly polite. “And of course one last person who can confirm that is, well, me.”

“Son, Harry, I think you may still be shocked after your, ah, incident. Obviously Black can’t be innocent.”

Perhaps it’s not the best move - even if the man oozes incompetence, he is still the Minister of Magic and making an enemy out of him is not the smartest thing to do. But Harry is so tired of people trying to control his life and what he has learned that night, a buzz of not yet fully formulated thoughts just at the edge of his consciousness which paint an ugly picture; it all makes him more careless than usually.

He smiles a bit broader, “I like to think there’s only two persons who had the right to call me ‘son’, sir, and they are not here, don’t you agree?”

The man’s face drops a little but before he or Dumbledore (Harry can see the headmaster would like to say something), Harry continues talking. “I am willing to testify under Veritaserum. After all, the word of the Boy-Who-Lived should mean something, right?”

He looks around at the gathered people: pale and now definitely nervous Fudge, Tonks with an amused gleam in her eyes, Dumbledore’s twinkle slightly dimmed, Auror Shacklebot looking at him with curiosity. “So, can I see my friends now?”

Harry, Hermione and Blaise give their testimonies; he knows that Blaise, or more precisely, his mother, as well as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have pulled some weight and he’s grateful for that. Black (Harry still can’t bring himself to calling the man by his first name) awaits his trial. Harry is pissed when he learns that his godfather was convicted without a proper trial and vows to uncover who’s decision was that. Black is sent to St. Mungo for a special mental health treatment before he will be able to attend the court sessions. They exchange letters which are overly enthusiastic on Black’s part and more subdued on Harry’s. He tries to be open towards the man but it’s not always easy, not when he remembers Black abandoned him. Still, Harry knows he will do everything in his power to spend holidays with Black because there’s no way in hell he will return to Dursleys. There’s one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“Harry, my boy, I’m afraid you will have to go back to your family. I understand you have had some disagreements but surely you can understand why I’m asking you that.” Dumbledore looks at him over his glasses.

“Actually, sir, I really can’t,” Harry smiles pleasantly.

“The wards around the house protect you from Voldemort’s attack. There’s no safer place for you than at your relatives’”

Harry blinks incredulously and reminds himself to breathe. “Just so there are no misunderstandings, you are saying, sir, that a Muggle house inhabited by a family of three Muggles who have no idea how to protect themselves in any way, be it magical or not; a house in which my face and eye were cut with a shard of glass; that this very house is truly the safest place I can be?”

Dumbledore looks like he wants to say something but Harry is not finished.

“You told me once, Headmaster, that as long as I call that place ‘home’, I will be protected there. I think you and I both know that’s not the case.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I will not change my mind.”

They look at each other for a few moments. Harry nods jerkily - he doesn’t have enough power yet to do anything - and leaves the office.

_He needs to make a move, soon._


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

Harry sits in his favourite armchair in the Common Room, stroking Callisto who’s wrapped around his shoulders. There are no obvious looks thrown his way, no open gossiping - Slytherins are more subtle than that - but he can feel the energy of the room shifting and always circling back to him. He doesn’t pay it much attention, he’s thinking, pieces of the puzzle shuffling in his head, trying to decide on the best course of action.

Blaise strolls into the room, his posture completely relaxed, and goes straight to the fireplace.

“Walk with me, Harry?” He asks steadily and although Harry is still hurt, he knows what he wants and what he counts on, so he raises to his feet.

They stand in a courtyard, looking at snowflakes that swirl lazily in the air. Harry cranes his head just a centimetre towards Blaise and raises one eyebrow.

“I behaved rather stupidly,” he begins in a bored drawl, which would have pissed Harry if he didn’t know that was how Blaise got when he talked about emotions. Harry can sympathise. “I- there’s- there are some things, Harry, that are expected from Heirs,” he says, brown eyes flicking to Harry’s face.

Maybe Harry will never understand the traditions, the Pureblood customs that come to Draco or Pansy as easily as breathing, but he knows _a lot_. And he definitely knows where Blaise is going with this. He doesn’t like it one bit but he keeps his face blank.

“My mother expects me to produce an Heir, so the Zabini line can continue. I had to discuss certain… issues with her - that’s why I didn’t talk with you, Harry. But I wanted to, Merlin only knows that I wanted.” He turns so that he faces Harry, heated gaze pining him in place. Blaise wets his lips and Harry can’t help the way his eyes linger on them. He shakes his head to clear it a bit.

“And how did the discussion end?” He asks.

“She wants me to be happy,” Blaise smiles significantly. “Can I kiss you?”

And maybe Harry is not that good at reading emotions - maybe that’s something he will never be good at - because of his childhood. Or maybe he notices but he’s so tired of not being able to trust, of always looking for an ulterior motive. No matter the reason, he doesn’t think about the tiniest bit of tightness in Blaise’s eyes that whispers to him, _something is not right._ Instead, Harry forces himself to relax because _it’s just Blaise, he’s not going to hurt you_ , and he has to strain a bit to make up for the centimetres stolen by the cupboard, and then their lips are touching. He thinks that the books have lied to him, it’s not like fireworks or an explosion, it’s warm embers in the fireplace, the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, the stars reflecting in the Great Lake. It’s a bit like finding himself in another person.

They don’t become one of the sickening couples that seem to be attached at the hip, or at the tongue, at the very least. Harry doesn’t think he would have survived it. Honestly, his friends probably wouldn’t either - they would probably die from laughter if Harry tried to snog Blaise in public, Blaise who believes public affection _should not be a thing._ But they do sit closer at breakfast, their ankles casually touching. After long study sessions or an exhausting duelling practice, Blaise lays with his head in Harry’s lap, Harry’s fingers, criss-crossed with scars, cradling through his hair. He still has to remind himself, sometimes, that Blaise is not a danger, that another person touching him can mean safety. Sometimes Harry stiffens under the touch but then he sees the silver pendant gleaming around Blaise’s neck and he can breath again.

They have one argument which ends almost as fast as it starts. Harry has just snuck into his bedroom after spending the evening with Ginny. It was one of the good days, which are becoming more and more frequent, and he can still feel a smile lingering on his lips. It drops when he opens the bathroom door to find Blaise seating on the edge of the bathtub, his jaw locked.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks because - he loves the Slytherin mind games, he really does - but sometimes it’s just easier not to beat around the bush.

“Why do you spend so much time with her?”

Harry is confused but decides to go with his first guess. “With Gin?”

“Yes, with _Gin._ ” Blaise’s voice is bitter but he stays calm. Non-threatening.

Harry goes quickly in his thoughts through all of their conversations that have somehow concerned Ginny and it finally clicks. “Are you jealous?” He asks incredulously.

“Should I be?”

Harry can’t help but laugh which, in hindsight, may not have been the most sensitive thing to do, but he’s honestly too surprised to react in any other way.

“You do remember that she was possessed by Voldemort at the age of eleven, right? And that no one in this goddamn school thought to check on a child who was used by the darkest wizard of our era for the better part of the year?” 

A weird look passes through Blaise’s face and Harry thinks he may be feeling guilty but the accusation stings so he continues. “What, did you think we were having passionate sex in the Gryffindor dormitory? She’s twelve, Merlin’s beard. She needs someone to talk to, someone who can understand what it’s like…” he trails off awkwardly because he’s coming close to topics he doesn’t really want to discuss.

Apparently Harry’s wishes can’t be respected anymore because that’s exactly what interests Blaise. Harry is not particularly surprised.

“What do you mean, ‘someone who understands what it’s like’?” He asks carefully, his voice morphing into something gentle, as if he’s approaching a scared animal.

And Harry tells him - not everything, not about his hesitation in the first year, not all the details - but enough, enough that Blaise understands what he’s trying to say. Later, when they lay in bed, side by side, Harry realises just how afraid of rejection he was. His whole body trembles - he thinks he may be experiencing a belated panic attack - until Blaise slowly, ever so slowly, envelops him in a hug.

They wake up with their fingers still tangled together.


	34. In which Harry's life changes - this time for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back ;))))
> 
> I'm sorry for leaving for so long but uni was killing me and I wasn't in the state to write anything :( I hope there's still someone left to read this lol

He straightens inexistent creases on his soft blue robes. He would have preferred emerald but not everyone has a positive attitude towards his house. Besides, he knows that this colour makes him look younger, and if he smooths his face, changes the body language - precisely what he did when seeking shelter at Muggle libraries - Harry looks like a vulnerable, slightly scared child. Perfect for inducing sympathy of the judges.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Pansy who huffs from laughter. “A beautiful mask, love, I’m so very proud of you. Half of the court will want to adopt you themselves.” She battles her eyelashes in a mockery of innocency and giggles, breaking the character.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry doesn’t miss the way Draco’s eyes linger on Pansy. Turning away from the mirror, he makes a face to her but he knows she’s only trying to make the atmosphere lighter.

They are all dressed formally and a few minutes later, as soon as Pansy finishes charming her nails a Slytherin green ( _It’s for luck, Harry, don’t laugh!_ ) and the last of Blaise’s hair is tied in neat rows, they leave their dormitory.

Snape waits for them in his office and apparently his streak of pleasantness towards Harry - which mainly consisted of not letting him be killed by a werewolf - has ended because the look on his face is as sour as ever.

“I expect you to be back no later than an hour after the verdict is announced. Am I clear?” The man drawls.

His question is met with a chorus of _Yes, sir'_ s. One by one they step into the green flames.

Harry knows he is prepared for this, he has been preparing for it for ages with Alex Scramworth, a lawyer who behind a young face hides one of the sharpest minds Harry has ever had a pleasure to meet. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that having to talk about his childhood in front of such a big crowd is not his definition of a fun time. He doesn't know what to expect because - it’s not really surprising anymore - Dumbledore is against Black taking custody of Harry, which means that there will be people voting against him, no matter what. 

He tries not to fidget which is difficult because the members of Wizengamot take a _long_ time to get together and he’s getting nervous again. He feels a bit better when Blaise shifts slightly so that the sleeves of his robes cover their hands and latches his pinky with Harry’s. Finally Scramworth enters with Black, _Sirius,_ Harry reminds himself. Their relation is progressing, especially ever since he saw how hopeful Sirius was when he proposed that Harry could move in with the man.

Honestly, he doesn’t remember much from the hearing as most of his attention goes to observing reactions of the judges and to keeping himself from vomiting in the middle of the proceedings. A part of him is angry that his childhood still holds such a sway over his life because he shouldn’t feel that way, he shouldn’t have to explain himself to people, he shouldn’t have to prove that his life has been shitty, he shouldn’t have to rely on a bunch of wizards who think they are better than anyone else- Tracey leans slightly on his arm, pretending that she has to shift in her seat, and Harry realises he has started shaking. He glances quickly towards her, expressing his gratitude and he knows the message has been received, by the way Tracey slightly tilts her head.

Finally, his time to testify comes. He feels vulnerable, sitting in the centre of the big room but he uses it to his advantage - after all, he’s playing the role of a scared child. A man in dark grey robes brings in the pensive and Harry watches as the silver threads of his memories slip into the milky water inside of it. And then he’s three again and watches the cupboard door close on him for the first time, he’s five and he burns his hand on the edge of the stove, he’s nine and his nose is broken three times in one week, he’s shoved and pinched and slapped and the Harry who watches it from his current position thinks that he will _never_ be that weak again.

_Votes for handing over the custody of Harry James Potter to Sirius Orion Black: 41_

_Votes against: 9_


	35. In which there's Quidditch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible about my posting  
> or lack thereof 
> 
> so I've decided to post this even tho it's short and I don't really like it   
> I'm sorry?

“Oh, wow. What _is_ that?” Harry motions towards a row of house elves’ heads hanging on the wall.

Sirius makes a grimace, which Harry thinks is completely justified. “You will notice that there’s a particular brand of madness in this family and one of its symptoms is bat-shit crazy home decor.”

Harry snorts and honestly, looking around, he can’t argue. They are in the process of organising Grimmauld Place which, even with Kreacher’s help, is a lot of work. Harry wasn’t sure about the elf when he first met him but then he saw a cot under the stairs, where the elf sleeps, and ever since then, he takes care to be polite. He also keeps Sirius and Kreacher apart as much as possible because they are _insufferable_ together. Cleaning the house is tough work - Draco looked terrified when he heard Harry and Sirius were doing it themselves - but Harry doesn’t mind. The mechanical movements give him time to think. Nine people voted against him leaving Dursleys and he swears to himself each of them will be punished. It’s annyoing, still not having enough levy around the people who matter but at least he has a guardian now, and the voice of House Black.

He will plot and, when the least expect it, they will fall.

But before that, he has the World Cup to attend. Sirius has been talking enthusiastically about it for two weeks now, especially after seeing how Quidditch is one of the topics that almost make Harry behave like a child his age.

“Wake! Up! Wake! Up! Wa-“ the chant is abruptly stopped by Harry throwing open the door of his room with murder in his eyes.

“Why,” he growls, “why on Earth are we waking up at four in the morning?”

Sirius, undeterred by Harry’s attitude, waves the tickets in his face. “It’s all part of the experience, Harry! Now come on, we have breakfast in half hour and then we leave.” And he marches away, now singing under his nose. Harry can’t help but smile. Sometimes, having a godfather isn’t that bad.

The man is wearing a poncho in the middle of the summer. And a swimming cap. And shorts. Harry sighs deeply, thinking that if anyone can reveal their existence to the Muggles, it won’t be Muggleborns but Purebloods parading around like that. Fortunately, the queue _finally_ moves and they enter the area packed with tents, leaving the offensive sight behind.

They walk slowly, taking in the chaos surrounding them, various Hogwart’s students passing by, greeting Harry with a smile, a nod or a quick word.

“Everyone knows you, Mr. Popular,” Sirius reaches out to ruffle his hair before realising that a) Harry doesn’t have any hair to ruffle, b) Harry stills suddenly, obviously trying not to flinch. A guilty look enters his eyes but he’s been nothing but good for Harry so he decides to take pity on the man.

He smiles more broadly than he normally would have and answers cheerfully. “It’s good to keep contacts in all the Houses, though they’re not really my friends. Speaking of friends, Hermione!” He waves towards the witch.

“Harry! I’m so happy to see you, Ron’s already here and Ginny and the twins, and I think I saw Draco somewhere but I didn’t really want to approach, you know why, of course,” she rattles all on one breath. Only then she realises she hasn’t greeted Sirius. “Lord Black,” Hermione curtsies, her cheeks tinted pink.

“I’ve already told you, Hermione, call me Sirius,” he complains good-naturedly.

They continue, catching up on what happened since they last saw each other, when there’s a drawl from behind them. “Hardewald, I’ve missed you.”

Harry spins around, producing an offended gasp. “That’s not even a real name, you heathen. I’ve missed you too,” he smiles gently, looking into Blaise’s eyes.

“I’ll have you know that it was my great-great-grandfather’s name, completely real. If Mother was here, she would have been deeply offended.” His serious tone is contradicted by the smile curling around his lips.

And then, it’s time for the match.

“Krum! Ivanova! Zograf! Ivanova! Lynch!” Ludo Bagman only shouts the players’ names, not having the time to comment on what they do.

Harry ia _mesmerised_. He has never seen something like this before and it is completely, utterly amazing. He is seating in the Top Box, along with Sirius, Blaise, the Malfoys, and the Weasleys. There are also a few important politicians and Harry made sure before the game that he was introduced, though with the attention his status gave him, it wasn’t difficult. A weird addition to the mix is a terrified houself but Harry didn’t pay her much mind.

“And is that?” Bagman’s voice booms again. “Yes! Krum sees the snitch and… he’s got it, ladies and gentlemen! Krum catches the snitch! Ireland wins the match!”

Later, there is cheering and laughter and chaos and butterbeer and his friends in Harry’s grand tent. He rests his head on Blaise’s shoulder, who smiles down at him before launching again into the description of the magic behind leprechauns’ gold. All is well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a missing Harry's birthday party but it was a pain to write   
> so I didn't


	36. In which the stars are not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about commas 
> 
> happy second week of the year

A tiny little version of Blaise sits on a golden snitch and flies around Dobby. A tiny little Harry, standing on the top of Dobby’s head and holding one of his floppy ears to prevent himself from falling, reaches out his tiny little arm. “Forward!” he bellows, his voice also tiny and little.

Dobby makes one step, two, and opens his mouth in a scream that’s equal parts terrible and weirdly muffled. Harry’s shushing mixes with tiny little Blaise screaming his name, “Harry, Harry, wake up!” The noise grows louder, louder, louder-

He startles awake, wand already in hand, but calms down at the sight of Blaise’s dark eyes. There’s a tightness, a sense of urgency in them that makes the rest of Harry’s dream quickly disappear.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m-,” Blaise licks his lips nervously, “I’m not sure. There’s screaming but I don’t know much more. Sirius said he’ll be back in a second.”

They dress up as quickly as possible, put their wands in holsters, ready to be drawn. Harry picks up Callisto sleeping in the legs of their bed and drapes her around his arms, pockets the two-way mirror gifted to him by Sirius.

They are about to leave when Sirius stumbles into the tent, their wands immediately on him.

“What did you wear for my birthday?” Harry asks, his eyes never leaving the man.

“A rainbow robe printed in little black sorting hats.”

“Good, okay,” they relax a bit but the next scream makes them tense, again.

“Right, boys, I need to go, you go into the forest, away from the screaming. Arthur’s children should be somewhere in the forest, too. Away from the screaming, understood?” Sirius looks at both of them seriously, then ever-so-slowly, giving him the time to move away, he hugs Harry, just for a heartbeat.

They hurry in opposite directions, Harry turning around in the last moment to shout, “Don’t get yourself killed!”

The darkness of the forest is interrupted by flickering lights, _Lumos_ whispered under breath, sounds of twigs being broken. They walk fast, not talking, not looking back. Harry looks up but he doesn’t see any stars.

Again, someone stumbles into their path and Harry’s heartbeat quickens until he notices the distinct white gleam of Draco’s hair. There’s something wrong with him, a slightly wild look on his face.

“Draco, Draco, are you okay?” Blaise whispers with urgency.

“Merlin,” he looks stunned, breathing heavily. “ _Merlin,_ Blaise.” Harry feels that something passes between the two boys. He’s not exactly sure what, but he feels the slightest shift in Blaise’s posture, a new tension entering his body.

They continue walking, Harry’s eyes trained on Draco. There’s something similar about the jerkiness of his movements, a thought forming just outside of Harry’s reach, disappearing before he can fully form it.

Eventually they reach a small clearing. Ron and Hermione are standing together, near the line of the trees, and they smile with relief when they see the other group.

“Where’s Gin?” Harry asks after silently accepting a hug from Hermione.

“With the twins.”

Harry doesn’t miss the way Hermione puts her hand on Ron’s to keep him from fidgeting.

There’s a moment of pause, of uncertainty about what to do next. Finally Hermione speaks up, visibly unable to keep silent, not really expecting an answer. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Before any of them can even make an attempt at a response, a new voice answers for them.

“Harry Potter and his lovely group,” the voice isn’t exactly cold but completely flat. Daphne Greengrass walks towards them, beautiful as ever, her moves languid, relaxed. “The only thing I can tell you, and you should appreciate my kindness, is that you should run, little Mudblood. Run as fast as you can, because they’re looking for your kind.”

They barely manage to restrain Ron who throws himself at Greengrass with a muffled scream of _You, bitch._ She walks away, into the darkness, while Ron calms down, though he’s still mumbling under his nose.

They decide to stay in place, settle down, huddled together. Harry can hear Hermione talking softly to Ron, thanking him but saying it wasn’t the right time. Blaise takes out a shrinked book that was in his pocket and starts reading. Harry goes through his Occluding exercises, something he has started doing after a conversation with Sirius. He imagines a giant, complicated clock, multiple gears turning in all directions, the strings of his thoughts wrapping around them, and out of all of that, an image floats to the front. He’s a bit younger but the change isn’t really noticeable, something that Harry just knows. He’s laying in his bed in Hogwarts. The mattress dips under Draco’s weight and Harry knows which memory it is. He remembers Draco asking about Dobby, about whether it was that elf who warned Harry. When he was leaving for his bed, Draco’s moves had the same jerkiness about them, as a a few minutes ago and Harry wonders what that means.

He opens his eyes just in time to see a shining wolf run through the trees and approach him.

“Stay where you are, Harry,” it speaks with Sirius’s voice. “I’m coming for you.”

Later, they learn about Death Eaters, their masks cold and unforgiving, levitating a family of Muggles, their laughter ringing through the night. They learn about Neville Longbottom losing his wand while climbing the stairs to one of the boxes near them ( _“How does one_ lose _their wand? Merlin’s bollocks,” Pansy huffs derisively when they recount to her what has happened.)_. They learn about _Morsmorde_ , the Dark Mark, Crouch’s elf being found in the forest.

Something is shifting, building up, and Harry feels a tightness in his chest. Whatever happens, he knows he won’t like it.


End file.
